


Right Under our Noses

by ellay_gee



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Brotherhood, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, We all need hugs, aggressive neglect, au obvi, concrit welcome, encouraged even, i couldn't write this chapter without naming prompto's parents, i don't mean to imply your names are boring or anything, i gave them the most generic names ever, i think the tags make it sound worse than it is, just common, kaciart is my muse, non sexual nudity, physical/mental/emotional abuse, prompto deserves better, prompto has shitty parents, sorry to anyone named these names, trigger warning for abuse though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-05-09 16:44:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14719823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellay_gee/pseuds/ellay_gee
Summary: *based on kaciart art and general chatting within her streams and several conversations*Five times the bros should have noticed that Prompto's home life wasn't quite right, and what happens when they finally do.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! First, for my To Heal a Chocobo readers, do not fret! I am working on it, and the next chap should be out within the week. My long absence is due to preparing for, and then being on vacation.
> 
> In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this story! Please do let me know what you think if you're so inclined. I will link the specific art that inspires this story during the chapter in which it comes about.

**_Our story opens in a small, overcrowded street not too far from the central district of Insomnia. Dusk is gathering, making the shadows of the nosey neighbors who dotted the street grow long. A silent ambulance is parked in front of the house next door to where the incident occurred, lights flashing ominously against the darkened windows of the humble abode. In the distance, the sirens of a second ambulance are fading into the rest of the ambient traffic noise as it carries its occupant to the closest hospital._ **

 

They really should have figured it out sooner.  All the different ways they were shown, but did not see; the times they were told and did not hear.

Ignis glanced in the rearview mirror, doing his best to keep his composure. So much had happened in such a short time. But there was no going back, now.

“Are you sure you don’t want to let the paramedics help you?” He asked, his voice calmer than he felt.

Huddled in the backseat was Prompto, legs drawn up with his one good arm wrapped around them.  Ignis knew it had to be painful; the brief glance he had at the bruising along the blonde’s ribs earlier told him as much. Prompto was doing his best to keep his composure, but it was a losing battle.  His head was turned to the side, profile telling a devastating story. The boy’s eyes tracked the motions outside the car, bright with unshed tears.

“No, I’m ok. Just…let them help the others first.” Prompto’s voice had that dreamy quality that Ignis usually associated with tiredness, but knew it to be better attributed to the state of shock the boy was sliding into.

Not knowing what else to say, Ignis lapsed into silence for a while, watching the scene outside the window. The street was flooded with cars and people; some there to help, others there to gawk. There were a few police officers keeping the crowd back, while one officer seemed to be stationed with Mrs. Argentum, who was pacing the porch and chain smoking.

Ignis startled when Prompto spoke up, his voice thick with emotion as his freckled face scrunched a little in the half-light. “Is Gladio gonna get in trouble?”

Something tore in Ignis’ chest, his eyes automatically darting to where the shield sat in the back of one of the police cruisers, holding a bloodied cloth to his face.  The officer speaking to him was less than half his size and seemed more than happy to keep her distance.

When he turned back to Prompto, the boy was looking at him with those big lavender-blue eyes. He grit his teeth, finding it difficult to look the blonde straight on without rage playing across his usually schooled features.

“No, he won’t be in trouble.  There were witnesses to the attack on Noctis.  Gladio was acting in his royal capacity, there’s no question of that.” Ignis cast the boy what he hoped was a comforting look, but the blonde seemed less than convinced.

Prompto swallowed a sob, turning back to the window. He whimpered a little as he re-adjusted his position before settling again. “I’ve made such a mess of things.” He whispered, finally burying his face in his knees.

 

* * *

**_Penny’s Arcade; two years ago. In which the first sign should have been noted by the usually astute adviser._ **

 

Noctis was leaning up against the counter in the food court, looking for all the world like a poster child for boredom. It was a practiced affectation, however, and anyone who really knew him could see he was excited. Ignis shook his head at the boy as he took a glance over the menu. On the other side of Noctis, Gladiolus was nonchalantly scrolling through his phone, looking up every once in a while to scan the room for threats.

Noctis didn’t often ask to spend time outside the Citadel, so Ignis was rather interested in meeting the young man with which he had deigned to spend his free time. Sure, he’d done his research, but had not found anything out of the ordinary in this Prompto Argentum’s records.

Noctis suddenly straightened up, his eyes lighting up in excitement. Ignis followed his gaze to a small exuberant blonde clad in an oversized gray hoodie and extremely worn jeans bounced up to Noctis and attempted to throw his arm around the raven haired teen’s shoulder. The adviser watched in amused horror as he was stopped abruptly by Gladiolus straight-arming him in the chest, knocking him to the ground. The warrior never even glanced up from his phone.

A small crowd looked on as Noctis spat a few angry words Gladiolus’ way and proceeded to help the freckled boy to his feet. Though he was holding a hand to his chest where the shield had made contact, his face held a bright smile.

“Oh, no, it’s ok Noct. Totalllly my fault. I was stupid to run up to you like that!” He laughed a little, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. “I mean, what else was he supposed to do? _Not_ protect the prince?” Before anyone could say anything further he turned to Gladiolus, who had finally put his phone away.

He waved at the larger man, keeping his distance but attempting to appear friendly. “Dude, you’re so huuuge!!  Like, what do you even eat?”

Ignis stepped forward then, putting himself between the grumpy shield and the blond.  “Everything is the short answer. You must be Prompto.”

The younger boy grinned, his freckled cheeks pink from embarrassment. “Yeah, uhm…I mean yes, sir. That’s me. I’m guessing you’re Iggyyy…” he faltered a little at the perturbed expression that fell across the sandy haired teen’s features. “…niiis. Uhm, Ignis?” He shifted from foot to foot looking at the adviser nervously.

“ _Nice save._ ” Noctis stage-whispered and elbowed the blonde in the ribs.

“I do prefer Ignis from those to whom I am not overly acquainted, but—“ he glanced at Noctis and rolled his eyes. “I suppose it would do no harm if you were to refer to me as Iggy.”

The freckled youth beamed up at him and stuck out his hand to shake. “Nice to meet you!”

Ignis felt his face fold into a smile of its own volition. The kid certainly had pep.  “Likewise. Now, I’m assuming that you two would like to get some lunch before beginning your gaming?”

This time it was Noctis who slung his arm around the other boy’s shoulders, pulling him towards the menu board.

“Oh, uhm, I ate before I came! I didn’t realize that lunch was part of the plan.” The blonde placed a hand to his flat belly, pinkening a little as he glanced over the options.

Gladiolus eyed him incredulously. “Kid, you’re a toothpick. At least order some fries or something. You look like a stiff wind would blow you over.”

“Haha, or a big galoot.” He shot an impish smile at the shield. “But,” he rushed on at the incredulous expression of the warrior returned, and gestured to his thin physique, waggling his eyebrows. “I worked hard for this svelte figure; I’m not about to poison it with salted grease sticks.” He bumped shoulders with Noctis, who grinned and shook his head.

“Ah, well then, perhaps a salad.” Ignis suggested as he stepped up to the register and began to place the order despite the protests of the younger boy. “In fact, why don’t you three go find a seat?”

Not having to be told twice, Noctis gripped Prompto by the forearm and began half-leading/half-dragging his friend to one of the bright orange booths, practically shoving him in ahead of himself, presumably to keep the anxious boy from bolting.

When Ignis joined them, he noted that the blond was rubbing his arm where Noctis had grabbed it. He lifted one eyebrow in question. “Does Noct not know his strength?”

The reaction was immediate; Prompto shoved both arms beneath the table, laughing nervously. “Nah, Noct’s a wuss. I just happened to run into something last night and he grabbed right on the bruise.”

Noctis uttered an apology at the same moment Ignis asked to see the injury, but Prompto quickly shook his head. “N-no, it’s fine! Really. It was my fault, anyway. Shoulda been watching where I was going. I’m just really _really_ clumsy.” He laughed again, high pitched and more than a little nervous.

He was saved from further explanation by the arrival of the food, however. They all dug in with gusto, and by the time they’d finished and moved on to the games, the issue was forgotten.

 

* * *

**_Two days prior to that; Prompto is excited (read: nervous) about meeting Ignis and Gladiolus, having only recently made friends with the prince. In a rare moment of peace, he has decided to talk to his mother about his new friend while his father watches the news in the living room._ **

 

“…he’s just so…so cool, mom. Like, you’d expect the prince to be like aloof and stuff, and he does seem that way from afar, but he’s totallllly cool, you know?”

His mother spared him a glance over her tea, giving him a half smile. “So you’ve said.” She replied before going back to work on her crossword.

Undaunted by her near indifference to his excitement, he continued, waving his arms about and gesturing dramatically as he gushed. “And this Ignis guy, he sounds so scary. He’s like perfect in every way. Noct says he knows everything, including how to make someone disappear without a trace.  I kinda think he may be joking about that one, but I’m not sure I want to find out. And then there’s Gladio, his shield. You’ve seen him on TV, right? Big menacing guy, always behind Noct? Well apparently, he’s this like big romantic and has a soft spot for kids...well, kids who aren’t Noct, anyway. Noct says that one time—‘

“ _Shiva’s fucking tits,_ boy!” Mr. Argentum stomped into the kitchen, slamming his hand down on the counter and startling the pair at the table. “Won’t you just shut the hell up, already?” He grumbled, staring down Prompto until the boy looked away. The older man snorted and made his way to the refrigerator to retrieve a beer. His fifth, if Prompto is keeping proper count.

The blonde whispered a quick ‘ _sorry dad_ ’ to his father and ducked his head down farther.

“Fucking sick of hearing about your imaginary friend, anyway. As if the Crown-godsdamned-prince wants anything to do with the likes of you. You’ve probably been spending all that time away from home in an alley somewhere; doing the only thing Niffs are good for.”

“That’s not true!” Prompto practically yelled. Though he regretted the words almost as soon as they left his lips, he forced more out after them. “Noct is too my friend! We hang out all the time.”

His father slammed his beer can down on the counter and snatched Prompto up by the forearm, pulling him with such force that the chair fell over behind him. He got Prompto turned around and wrenched his arm up behind his back, forcing him face-first into the wall. “You have _no respect_ , you fucking liar.” He bounced the boy against the plaster a few more times for good measure.

Then, Mr. Argentum held the boy there long moments, the grip on his arm tightening enough that Prompto’s bones rubbed together with the force of it. Unable to silently bear the pain any longer, the freckled youth whimpered out a plea to be let go.

HIs father chuckled at him before using his free hand to punch the boy in the kidney before sweeping his legs out from under him and sending him to the floor. The older man then stepped back a little and sent three swift kicks into the blonde’s side.

“You been getting a little uppity lately, boy. Damn near ungrateful. Don’t you backtalk me again, you hear me? Raise your voice to me or your mother, hell, you fucking look at either of us sideways and you’ll be on the streets.  Got it?”

“Yes, sir.” Prompto wheezed out, but made no move to stand or look up at his father. He knew better by now.

Wordlessly, the elder Argentum snatched up his beer and went back into the living room where he turned the news up several more decibels.

At the kitchen table, his mother had barely looked up from her crossword after the initial conflict. “No dinner tonight.” She said, furrowing her brow as she concentrated on filling out the tiny boxes.

“Yes ma’am.” Prompto moaned as he got himself back to his feet, ready to head up to his room.

“Clean up the mess before you go.” This too was said without a glance at her son.

Prompto righted his chair and wiped up some of the droplets of beer that had spattered out of the can where his father slammed it down. When no further direction was given, he felt it safe enough to retreat.

He went into the bathroom, as it was the only door that locked from the inside besides his parent’s room. He checked out his arm where a hand-shaped bruise was already blooming. He didn’t bother looking at his ribs; he just fished out a bottle of aspirin from the basket under the sink and dry-swallowed five in one go.

That night as his stomach rumbled, he counted his blessings. Among them was his burgeoning friendship with Noctis, and the fact that his parents were supposed to be catching a plane in the morning and would be gone for two full months.

It was the little things that got him through.


	2. chapter two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This gets a little graphic and squicky to those who are easily triggered by non-standard sexual situations. There actually isn't a sexual situation in this (unless you really want to squint and add it in your head, I mean, I can't control your brain) but I realized after I wrote it that it looked as if it was kind of heading that way, but it totally doesn't, and it won't. That being said, I'm gonna add general trigger warnings to this chapter, so just be warned that some bad shit happens, but nothing that I believe actually needs to be tagged that hasn't been already. Enjoy!

Ignis watched as a few officers spoke with the members of the Crownsguard, who had just arrived on scene. He locked eyes with Cor Leonis as one of the policemen gestured their way. Ignis shook his head a little, signifying that they were not ready to be questioned.

In the backseat, Prompto shifted, dropping his feet to the floorboards with a groan. “Do you think Noct will forgive me?” His voice was strained and thick with emotion.

Ignis turned fully to him again; he felt it was important that Prompto understand his next words. “There is nothing for him to forgive. You have done _absolutely nothing_ wrong.”

This was not satisfactory to the younger boy. “I’ve dragged him into my stupid mess. I never wanted this to happen. I never wanted him to know; and now look at all the problems I’ve caused! _He’s_ hurt, _Gladio’s_ hurt. All because I wasn’t good enough to keep him away from all my stupid stuff.”

“Prompto, you know that’s not true. None of this was your fault—“

The blonde turned sharply to him. “Of course it is, what are you talking about? It’s always my fault. I’m just a fuck-up, Iggy.” He laughed humorlessly. “You really shoulda figured it out before, you know? Really derelict in your duties on that one.”

“That is _enough,_ Prompto! I won’t listen to you disparage yourself any longer.” He quelled his flare of anger when the younger boy flinched at his raised tone. He started again, folding some calmness back into his voice. “What I should have figured out earlier was what you have been going through. I feel as if I’ve been blind to your needs, and for that I apologize.”

Prompto offered up half a smile. “I’m not your job, Iggy.”

“You may not be my job, Prompto, but you _are_ my friend. I—“

But he was interrupted by a sudden repeated percussion punctuated with sharp raps. Prompto squeaked as he threw himself to the side and back and Ignis nearly jumped out of his skin. The source of the noise was Mrs. Argentum, who was beating the flat of her hand against the window, her wedding ring striking the glass.

“You get out here _right now_ young man! You get out here and tell the police the truth!  They’re talking about _arresting_ your father for six sake, even after that _behemoth_ nearly killed him! This is all _your_ fault, you little Niff piece of shit.” She began beating on the window again, face twisted with fury.

Prompto bit his lip and reached for the handle on the door, but Ignis lunged over the seat to grip his wrist, stopping him. The adviser ignored the twisting in his stomach as the blond began to panic; torn between the steel will of his friend, and the rage of his mother.

“Shhh shhh…” Ignis soothed, rubbing the tender flesh of the boy’s wrist with his thumb. “…stay in the car, everything is going to be fine, I’ll get this straightened out.”

But the Astrals must have smiled upon him, for another officer ambled up, calling out to Mrs. Argentum to come with him. Behind them, Gladiolus lumbered from the back of the police car, still holding the bloodied cloth to his face. The female officer handed him a few papers, and he bowed to her before striding over to the ambulance doors, which opened for him as he approached.

As the officer led Mrs. Argentum towards the house, she wrenched out of his grip, turning back towards the car.  “No one wanted you, you know!” She locked eyes with Prompto as she screamed loud enough for him to hear through the glass. Loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear, really. “We should have never felt sorry for you. We should have left you in the orphanage to rot!”

Ignis’ throat tightened as he realized that he was still holding Prompto’s wrist. He let it go, swallowing hard as the younger boy slid back into his seat, watching his mother pull out another cigarette and light it as she once again began to pace on the porch.

“She’s probably right.”

He said it so quietly that Ignis was sure the words were not meant for him to hear. It was just as well; he didn’t know what to say to them, anyway.

* * *

**_Seven months ago at Noctis’ apartment, a mundane dinner goes awry and Ignis chalks up Prompto’s behavior to his usual dramatics._ **

“Oh man, Iggster!! You are the literal best!”

Ignis rolled his eyes at the antics of the freckled youth as he sat a plate of Peppery Daggerquill Rice in front of Prompto. Across from him, Noctis was already picking out the peppers and onions. Once Ignis’ back was turned, the adviser knew that the blond would be sliding his plate over so that Noctis could steal some of his meat and replace it with vegetables.

He chose to ignore this action however, and gave them time to make the exchange before he returned to the table with his own plate. They spoke amiably, mostly about school. Noctis was fishing to get Ignis to help them with an upcoming chemistry test, while Prompto scarfed down his food. He finished much earlier than the other two and pushed his plate away, smiling at the front Ignis put on about how he was not going to help them (even though they all knew he would).

Ignis winked over at Prompto as Noctis continued to badger him. “I’ll help you both study for your test if you put dinner away and wash the dishes.”

Noctis’ face fell, but he finally nodded. “Ok—“

“ _All the dishes_. No ‘soaking’ the pans for three days.”

“Uurrgh, alright.” Noctis scowled at the older teen and took an angry bite of his food.

“I can help! Lemme just grab theeese—“ Prompto popped up, grabbing his plate and cup. “And I can wash those and put the food away—“

Ignis laughed a little, nodding along. “Alright, but that’s it. Noctis can do the rest.”

Prompto rattled his dishes throwing Ignis a salute as he whirled around and headed into the kitchen.

Ignis and Noctis exchanged amused glances and continued to eat in companionable silence. Ignis finished soon after and stretched, running his hands through his hair—mussing and straightening in two quick swipes. “While you two are cleaning up, I’ll read over the chapters in your book to reacquaint myself with—“

A pop like a gunshot ripped through the air quickly, startling the two at the table. “ _Shit_!” Prompto’s panicked voice issued from the kitchen.

Ignis lept to his feet while Noctis kind of just leaned to the side and hollered “you ok?” before shoving another bite of food in his mouth.

“…yeaahhh.” Prompto called back as Ignis rounded the corner into the kitchen proper.

The blond was standing near the open stove door, broken glass and orange cake spattered across the cabinets and floor. Ignis quickly took in the scene, deducing that Prompto must have used a wet cloth to remove the hot glass dish from the oven, causing it to explode.

“I’m really sorry, Iggy! I..the uh, the timer went off, and it smelled so good! And you were talking to Noct and so I thought that maybe I should just pull it out of the oven—“

He trailed off and shrunk against the counter as the adviser strode forward, expression impassive. Wordlessly, Ignis reached towards his face, frowning as the blonde shut his eyes and whimpered. “Please don’t be mad.”

But his fingers were gentle as he grasped Prompto’s chin and turned his head more to the light. A thin trail of blood oozed down from under his right eye from where he was struck by an errant shard of glass. More shallow lacerations adorned hands and arms. “You’re hurt.”

Prompto opened first one eye, then the other, before quickly withdrawing from the adviser’s grip. “It—it’s ok! Nothing a few band-aids won’t fix!”

Ignis frowned at him, pulling his hand closer. “Like these?” He asked, pointed to the several-days-old band aids that adorned his fingers already.

“Yeah,” Prompto chuckled nervously, waving off Ignis’ attempts at assistance. “I’m a total pro; I’m always hurting myself.” He grinned up at the adviser as he crouched down and attempted to pick up the still-hot glass. “I’ll just get this cleaned up—“

Ignis pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “I think you’ve done quite enough. Please, just go take care of those cuts. I’ll clean up in here.” Ignis began collecting the items he would need, making a shooing motion at the young blonde, who quickly scampered away in the direction of the bathroom. Ignis shook his head and let out an exasperated sigh as he grabbed the trashcan and got to work.

* * *

**_Three weeks prior to this incident found Prompto sitting in the straight back chair his father had dragged into the middle of the kitchen. His mother was still in Altissia, not that she’d be of any help at this point. After all, it was the boy’s own fault._ **

“Exactly how stupid are you?!”

The large man waved a plate under Prompto’s nose, coming dangerously close to clipping him with it. Again.

“I’m sorry, dad. I must have been

 in a hurry…”

“ _I must have been in a hurry_.” His father mimicked, face twisting in derision. “Too much of a fucking hurry to wash a dish the right way? There’s still cheese stuck to it!” Mr. Argentum threw the plate to the floor, shattering it.

“Sorry.” Prompto squeaked out again, staring at the broken glass.

“That’s all you ever have to say for yourself, isn’t it, boy?” His father sneered.  He reached into the dry rack and began picking up dishes randomly, throwing them in the general direction of Prompto, who quickly covered his head as he was pelted with cups and cutlery. “ _I’m sorry,_ ” his father mimicked each time he threw a new object. When he was finally out of ammunition, he shoved Prompto down into the mess of glass and silverware.

“Clean it up right this time.” He shouted, giving the boy a hard kick to the rear, sending him sprawling atop the mess.

Swallowing hard, Prompto got to work picking up the glass, doing his best (but mostly failing) to avoid cutting his fingers. His father stood behind him, eyes shining balefully in the bright kitchen light. “You should be more grateful,” he grumbled at Prompto’s back. “I could easily drop you off in the Niff district and never think of you again. Would you like that?”

Without looking back, Prompto vigorously shook his head. “No, sir.”

His father snorted and shuffled about, walking over to the refrigerator and pulling out a beer. He leaned against the counter across from Prompto now, so that his shoes were in the boy’s field of vision as he cleaned.

“Do we need to take another ride down there? Let you see first-hand all those freckly blondes and red-heads gettin’ into cars and leading men down dark alleys? Plenty of them out there young as you.”

Prompto froze, clenching a shard of a broken plate hard enough to draw blood. He remembered well the trip they’d taken to the Niff district a few years back. It was after one of the first times his father had physically hurt him. After things had calmed down, his parents had strapped him into the car and driven downtown.

There he’d seen a lot more people who looked like him than he’d ever seen in one place prior to that night. And they frightened him. Most of them were gaunt and dirty, dotting the side of the roads holding signs explaining the various things they’d do for money or food; some were more savory than others. At any rate, he’d gotten the picture fast. No matter what his parents did to him, it was infinitely more acceptable than being one of these poor, forgotten people.

When Prompto—lost in his memories as he was—didn’t answer, the elder Argentum chugged half the beer and set it upon the counter. He closed the small gap between them, now standing with his feet planted firmly on either side of the pile of glass the freckled youth was collecting.

“It’s best that you answer me, boy. Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Prompto sat back on his calves, doing his best to keep tears from rolling down his cheeks. “Please, Dad, just— I’m so so sorry about the dishes, it’ll never happen again.”

Mr. Argentum hauled off as if he was going to strike his son, but stopped mere inches from making contact. He patted the boy’s face instead, something dark and angry in his eyes. “You’re just an unwanted piece of Niff garbage, Prompto. Your mother wanted a baby so badly; you’re lucky she felt sorry for you, or you’d be just like those other Niff whores.” As he spoke, his fingers crawled their way into Prompto’s hair, finally grasping on tightly to the short hairs a the back of his head. “If it was my choice, we never would have picked you. I knew you’d be nothing but trouble.”

He increased his grip, lifting as he did. Prompto scrabbled at the hand in his hair, whimpering as he was forced to stand.

“You think you’re safe now that you’re sucking the prince’s dick?”

Through the pain, Prompto managed to send his father a confused expression. “Wha…? Dad, no, it’s not like that—“

The older man violently shook Prompto’s head, nearly making him lose his balance. “Don’t fucking lie to me, boy! What else could he possibly want from you? You’re just a stupid, clumsy loser.”

Prompto’s heart fell at those words. They echoed his own thoughts, minus the gross sexual allusions; he knew (he fucking hoped to the astrals) that Noctis would never demand him to do anything he didn’t want.

He was saved from having to answer, however, as his father tossed him down on the floor again. “Clean this shit up and then get up to you room. I’ll be up later.”

Prompto quickly finished cleaning up the mess and retreated to his room. True to his word, his father came up a little while later to give him his proper punishment. Laying there after he left, back stinging from the newly acquired welts, the blonde did his best to hold it together.

But it was getting harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies, dear Chocobo readers! I had a sudden opportunity for a lot of over time at work and right now money > fanfiction. I only need to finish up the rough bits, and am off tomorrow (today?) so hopefully will have it up then :) this got posted cause it was mostly done except the rough stuff. I hope you enjoyed!


	3. chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as usual, sorry I'm late. ::shakes fist at real life:: hope you enjoy!

“Prompto?” This was the third time Ignis had said his name, but the boy was not responding. He stared out the window where the male officer was loading his mother in the back of a cruiser. She wasn’t physically resisting, but Ignis could just make out some of the hateful words she was still screaming towards his car.

“How long has this been going on?” Ignis asked, waving his hand in the direction of Prompto’s battered face, new bruises blooming over old.

The boy furrowed his brow, which looked painful as the swelling skin of his left eye was tugged into the expression. He considered his words for long moments before speaking. “For as long as I can remember is the short answer.” Prompto leaned back into the seat, looking up at the ceiling of the car.

“And the long?” Ignis asked, his tone conveying his need to know.

Prompto puffed out a breath. “I mean, when I was a kid, it wasn’t too bad; there were a few spankings or whatever that probably went maybe too far….but, I mean, that was it! Mostly, they weren’t even around, so it wasn’t really that big a deal.”

He was quiet for a while, and Ignis was afraid he wasn’t going to go on. But, with a swipe at a stray tear on his cheek, he continued. “I guess you can see that they didn’t make my adoption a secret; pretty much reminded me at any possible turn how much worse I could have it. And I mean, they’re right. I’ve been to the refugee district enough times to know what happens to Niff kids. And, like, I got it back then, you know? Kids don’t listen well, and they aren’t capable of reason. Don’t know there’s consequences to their actions. So, hitting works, you know? Like, how else do you learn not to run into the street, or touch the stove, or to knock before you enter a room?”

Ignis’ horrified face let Prompto know that there were probably multitudes of other ways to teach children these things. When it looked as if the adviser would speak, the boy hurried on. “It, uh, it didn’t get _bad_ bad till a couple of years ago. See, mom and dad both work for this company that has them traveling a lot; putting them up in hotels across Eos and paying for a lot of their expenses. But, right before I started high school, they started traveling less and less. It’s still a lot, but instead of being away for months, it’s only weeks. Sometimes they work from the offices here, and they’ll be home for like a month before they’re gone again.

“Dad’s, uhm…welllll…he gets stressed out easily.” Here the blonde gestured vaguely to his face where his left eye was swollen nearly shut along with a menagerie of other scrapes and abrasions. “Mom’s not so bad. She, uhm…she mostly just yells. Sometimes she’ll hit me or whatever, but she’s not really strong, so it’s ok.”

“Prompto, that’s _never_ —“

“It is! It’s fine. Like I said, most of the time, it’s my own fault. I know there are consequences to stupid actions. I know what they’re like—“

“Prompto, slow down—“

But fear had already swept him away in a flood of anxiety, and he didn’t register Ignis’s words. “ _Anything_ is better than living in a Niff orphanage, don’t you get that?!” Prompto’s voice was ragged, angry tears streaming down his face. “Hell, I’m old enough now that they’d probably just put me right out on the street. No more hanging with Noct, no more potential Arts scholarship, no more anything.”

Prompto gulped in several breaths, staring at his knees. His good eye narrowed as another tear slid down his cheek. “I shoulda known,” he whispered almost to himself. “I shoulda known I didn’t have a chance. Stupid Prompto. Stupid _stupid_ Prompto.”

 

* * *

 

**_Four months ago, Ignis is driving the boys home after school. It is the last day before winter break, and they have just received their report cards. They decided to open them together on the way home, and share in their triumph or defeat away from prying eyes._ **

Ignis glanced at the boys in the backseat as they idled at a red light. Noctis was the first to open his manila envelope, smiling as he examined the green card within.

“Straight A’s. Ya proud, Iggy?” He asked, sticking out his tongue at his adviser, who smiled at him as he turned back to the road, starting off again.

“Yes, of course, Your Highness. You worked hard for those grades. And speaking of working hard, how did you do, Prompto? Were you able to bring up your grades?”

The blonde’s anxiety was palpable as he giggled nervously. “Oh man, I hope so. I really got my ass handed to me at midterms; pretty sure my dad will kill me if I bring home anything less than a B.”

Next to him, Noctis rolled his eyes in sympathy. “Oh, man, tell me about it! If I get less than an A in anything, my dad flips his shit. He’s all ‘the best tutors’ this, and ‘the finest schools’ that.”

Prompto laughed, still avoiding opening his envelope. “Ha, yeah, I can only imagine King Regis giving you ‘dad talks’ in that regal, commanding voice of his. Like, how bad was it as a kid?” The blond drew himself up a little, forcing a serious expression. “Son, for the good of Insomnia, **_nay_ ** , for the good of Lucis, you **_must_ ** floss.” He quickly dissolved into giggles at his own joke, while Noctis stared at him incredulously.

“ _Dude_ , that was so on point it’s scary.”

Prompto finally opened his envelope just a few blocks from his house, his brows drawn together in worry.

Ignis spared them a glance after he pulled into a residential neighborhood. “Don’t keep us in suspense. Did you improve?”

“Yeah,” Noctis nudged him none too gently. “That comic convention is next weekend. You’re not going to get grounded again, are you? It was like two weeks before I saw you outside of class after midterm reports went home.”

Prompto frowned down at the green slip in his hand. “Uhm, well, I hope not? I got a lot of A’s, but then there’s this B in Ancient Lucian History, and a C in Economics. My parents are definitely not going to be happy about that.”

Ignis turned down into Prompto’s driveway, parking next to an old yellow Studebaker. “I’m sure they can’t be too angry with you; your grades have improved greatly. Surely they’ll see all the hard work and effort you put into your schoolwork.”

Prompto gave him a bright smile. “I’m sure you’re right, Iggster.”

Ignis nodded to the younger teen, giving him a serious look. “If your parents are hard on you, it’s only because they care and want you to do well in life. Too many kids take for granted the lessons their parents try and teach them when they’re young.”

Prompto swallowed hard and nodded. He gave them both a wan smile before exiting the car, report card clutched tightly in one hand. He waved to them absently as he trudged to the little path that lead to the front entryway.

As Ignis backed down the driveway, the door opened and Mrs. Argentum stepped out, gesturing to Prompto impatiently when he stopped in his tracks. There was something akin to anger, or perhaps aggravation on her face, so Ignis stopped the car and rolled down the window.

“Everything alright, Mrs. Argentum?” He called, glancing to where Noctis was looking out his own window.

The older woman forced a smile. “Yes, thank you! I appreciate you bringing my son home.” She closed the distance between herself and Prompto, throwing an arm around his slender shoulders. Without another word, she ushered him inside.

“That was weird.” Noctis chimed in from the backseat, already pulling up King’s Knight on his phone.

“Yes, indeed it was.” Ignis chewed on his bottom lip, staring at the closed door. But, he shook off whatever thoughts were trying to form in his mind and put the car into gear again.

 

* * *

 

**_Prompto’s parents were both home the night he got his midterms. He’d received only one A; in his photography elective. The rest had been B’s and C’s with one damning D and a notice that if his scores were not improved by the end of the quarter, he’d be on academic probation with expulsion not far behind. We join them at the dinner table where Mrs. Argentum is serving up Daggerquil Rice for she and her husband, while Prompto’s plate holds a peanut butter and honey sandwich._ **

“What are we going to do with you?” Mrs. Argentum asked after taking a hefty sip of wine. She glanced across to her husband who was digging into his food noisily, clattering his fork against the plate as he attempted to stab a piece of meat.

Prompto stared down at his sandwich, stomach rumbling at the savory smells wafting across the table. “I dunno, Mom. I’m sorry; I’ll do better next time.”

His father scoffed, but said nothing.

Mrs. Argentum sneered at Prompto over her next sip of wine. “You need to focus on your grades. Gods know we aren’t going to pay for your college.” She set down her glass and took up her fork, taking a bite before speaking again. “I think you’ve been spending too much time with your friends. Maybe you shouldn’t see so much of them.”

Incredulous, Prompto dropped his sandwich back down on his plate. “What? Mom, no!”

The blond nearly rose out of his seat, but quickly thought better of it when his father shot him a glare. Mr. Argentum stared him down until Prompto looked away.

“I think it’s just that he’s stupid. Can’t keep up.” Mr. Argentum leaned back in his chair, his gaze boring into the side of Prompto’s head. “Isn’t that right, boy?”

Prompto bit his lip and said nothing.

His father snorted at the tiny rebellion. “What are you, deaf as well as stupid? I asked you a question.”

Prompto’s shoulders slumped and he pushed his plate away. “Yes, sir.”

Mr. Argentum’s face twisted in smug satisfaction. “ _Say it_.”

Prompto sighed audibly, rolling his eyes and muttering under his breath. This was, of course, the wrong thing to do.

In a flash, his father had him gripped by the upper arm with one hand and yanked him from his chair, slinging him around and shoving him into the refrigerator. He planted his hands on either side of the boy’s shoulders and leaned down till their faces were inches apart.  “You got something to say, fucking _say it_.”

Prompto turned his head down, cringing as spittle hit him in the eye. “I’m stupid, ok? I’m…I’m just a dumb Niff.”

“ _Are you patronizing me?_ ” He slapped Prompto hard and raised his hand to do it again when his wife stepped in.

She put a placating hand on his raised arm and gestured to Prompto with her head. “He’s got to got to school tomorrow, try not to give him a black eye, yeah?”

Mr. Argentum slowly lowered his hand, nodding. Once she stepped away, he shoved Prompto down to the floor and went back to his seat to finish dinner. When the boy tried to regain his seat, an infuriated glare from the older man had him settling back down to wait.

When his parents were done, his father went into the living room and turned on the TV, and his mother cleared the table, scraping the plates-including Prompto’s intact sandwich-into the trash. She lit a cigarette and sat back at the kitchen table, gesturing for the boy to join her.

Once he was settled, she glanced into the living room before speaking in a low voice. “If you’d just do what you’re told once in a while, you wouldn’t piss him off so much. Use your brain once in a while.”

“I wouldn’t have gotten such bad grades if he hadn’t—“

“ _Shut up_ ,” she hissed, curling her lip up in disgust. “Don’t you _dare_ try and blame him because you’re a fuck up. Maybe you _are_ stupid. Can’t even figure out how to keep from getting your ass kicked. It’s not fucking hard, you know. You just need to do what you’re told. Make good grades. Keep the fucking house clean.” She flicked the butt of her cigarette, letting the ash land on the table. “But, no, you keep making a nuisance of yourself, don’t you? I won’t always be around to save you, you know.”

Incredulous, Prompto couldn’t stop the next words coming from his mouth. “You call that ‘saving’ me?“

Her face screwed up in rage. “ _The fuck did you just say?!”_

Prompto immediately began to panic at her raised voice, waving his hands wildly, trying to get her to stop. “No, Mom, _no._ I’m sorry, I just—“

But it was too late. A curse from the living room and his father’s sudden stomping feet dried up Prompto’s mouth even as tears sprang to his eyes.

This was going to be _bad._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, a big ole thanks to MsC for being an awesome beta and all around cool person. <3 
> 
> hopefully it will not be as long of a wait. Overtime hours are now over at my job, so yay for you guys, boo for my paycheck.


	4. chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm catching up! slowly but surely! stayed up late to make sure to post. To make sure there were no further delays, i forwent the betaing, but I will not do that again cause I'm sure I missed a lot of stuff. apologies for any mistakes. anywho, enjoy!

**_We rejoin the present back in the car with Prompto an Ignis, the latter of which has vacated his spot in the front in favor of getting in the back and holding the younger boy while he muttered brokenly. Prompto has calmed and is now silent, however he continues to remain curled in the adviser’s arms, head tucked into the older boy’s shoulder. For his part, Ignis has not asked him to speak further, and has been simply comforting him. They separated only when the back of the ambulance opened, letting Gladiolus hop out and head their way._ **

Prompto eyed the older teen as he approached the car. The left side of the big warrior’s face was freshly bandaged, and he held a potion in his hand. The blonde gulped nervously as Cor Leonis quickly sidled up next to the shield and they seemed to have a heated discussion as they approached the car.

They separated again upon reaching the vehicle, Gladiolus standing next to the car until Cor walked back towards the ambulance. Once the older man was far enough away, the shield knocked on the window and Ignis unlocked the door. 

There wasn’t room for the three of them in the back seat, so Ignis and Prompto joined the warrior outside the vehicle, the adviser making sure to keep Prompto out of sight as much as possible. When Gladiolus turned to face him, Prompto reached up and traced a shaking finger along the hastily taped-down bandage covering the left side of his face, which was already spotting with blood.

“Oh _Astrals_ , Gladio, I’m so sorry! I’m so so _so_ sorry!” Prompto clenched his eyes shut against the tears that were threatening to spill, withdrawing back into himself.

But Gladiolus only laughed, and gently patted his arm. “Don’t worry about it, Kid. The eye’s fine, and the scar is gonna look great. I’m even thinking of holding off on the first potion dose just to make sure it stays nice and deep.” He shook the glowing bottle at them for emphasis.

Ignis huffed out an indignant breath. “You absolutely will not.”

The warrior shrugged at the sandy haired teen. “S’my face. I don’t see why I can’t let it have a big gnarly scar if I want one.”

Ignis puffed out an indignant breath. “Gladio, you can’t _possibly_ think this is a good idea. Take the damn potion.”

“Fine, fine. Oh, wait, hold on,” Gladiolus shoved the potion at Prompto, grunting out a ‘hold this’ while he went to kneel on the ground, muttering about an untied shoe. When he stood back up and the younger teen tried to hand him back the glowing bottle, the warrior wrapped both his large hands around the small pale one and crushed the potion in Prompto’s grip. He quickly withdrew, watching with concern as only a small portion of the visible bruises and cuts faded away.

“G-Gladio!” Prompto shouted, half in indignation, half in awe. He turned his confused expression to the shield. “That was supposed to be for your face.”

Gladiolus smiled mischievously down at him. “Well, your face needed it more.” When his jest did not get the desired reaction, he reached out and gripped Prompto by the arm lightly. “I’ll be fine, ok? You really need to get yourself checked out.”

Prompto shrunk into himself even further, staring down at his feet. “Is Noct…?” He trailed off, not quite sure how to finish the sentence.

The big warrior rolled his eyes. “Noct’s going to be fine. The paramedics are just being super insanely fucking thorough because he’s the prince.”

When Prompto still hesitated, Gladiolus wrapped his arm around the boy’s shoulder and began ushering him towards the vehicle. “He’s waiting for you. C’mon.”

The freckled youth nodded and allowed the big warrior to escort him past all the roaming officials, who Cor was keeping at a respectable distance.

Gladiolus stopped a few yards shy of the double back doors of the ambulance. “You know you have to give your statement after you get checked over, right? Cor can’t keep them off you forever.”

“I know.” Prompto stared at the ground, unmoving.

Gladiolus maneuvered to stand in front of the smaller boy, waiting till he met his gaze before speaking. “Kid, you’ve been through a lot, so I’m not going to lecture you, yet. But believe it when I say that we are having a _long_ discussion once this is all said and done, ok?”

Prompto’s lip wobbled and he looked away from the shield’s burning amber eyes. “I know.” It was a broken little statement pushed from between dry, swollen lips.

The big warrior’s expression immediately softened, mentally chastising himself for his lack of tact. “You’re not in trouble, Prom. We just need to talk about why you felt the need to keep all of this a secret from us for so long. We could have helped.”

Prompto merely nodded, stepping past the warrior and reaching out to tentatively knock on the back door of the ambulance. It swung open to reveal a harried looking EMT, who quickly helped him aboard, shutting the doors behind him with a resounding bang.

 

* * *

 

 

**_A little over one year ago, we find Gladiolus enjoying a rare day off at Insomnia Falls, a large protected forest with campgrounds and hiking trails and other family-friendly amenities. One of the most grueling attractions is the Trail of Perdition-aptly and ominously named, as it consisted of approximately four hundred stairs chiseled into a cliff side. The prize for completing this rigorous trek is a breathtaking view of the city. Gladiolus has opted to spend his day conquering the climb, and is surprised when he comes across none other than Prompto Argentum, vaguely annoying friend to the prince._ **

Gladiolus groaned to himself. It wasn’t as if he didn’t like the little pipsqueak, but he’d been hoping to have the lookout to himself, or at least not share it with anyone he was forced to see on a daily basis. The kid was dressed much too warmly for the day in a long sleeved shirt two sizes too big and jeans. He was huddled on a bench in a small rest area along the path, engrossed in his camera. He hadn’t noticed the older teen standing there, yet, and Gladiolus contemplated leaving.

But, he ultimately chose to be friendly. Since they’d gone on summer break from school, Noctis had more princely duties to attend to, and thus Prompto wasn’t able to hang around as much (though the two kept up quite the ongoing text conversation, much to Ignis’ aggravation).

“Hey, Kid, what brings you all the way up here?” He smiled down at the boy as his shadow covered Prompto’s small frame. The blonde glanced up, a spark of confusion lighting his eyes for a moment before he offered a small smile.

“Just wanted to get out of the house, I guess. Y’know, take some pictures.” Prompto waved the little digital camera he kept with him at all times up at Gladiolus. “What about you?”

Gladiolus chuckled lightly, comically flexing his muscles. “Oh, you know, gotta keep the body in tune.”

When he didn’t get the desired reaction, he sat down next to the boy and leaned back to bask in the mid-morning sun for a few long moments. He glanced back over at the freckled youth, who’d made no further movement.

“Thought you were afraid of heights.” Gladiolus said by way of conversation.

Prompto shrugged. “Yeah.”

Gladiolus laughed at his nonchalance and roughly ruffled his hair, quickly drawing back when the boy let out a pained hiss.

Prompto edged away from him, hands hovering around his head, but not quite touching it. “Don’t do that.” His tone was going for ‘humored admonishment’, but came out ‘wetly sad’.

“Woah, hey, are you ok? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—“

Prompto was quick to deflect the shield’s apology however, waving his free hand a little wildly. “N-no! It’s ok, I wasn’t paying attention this morning and slipped in the shower and bumped my head. It’s just tender.”

Concern knitted Gladiolus’ eyebrows together, and he leaned forward to get a better look. “If you hit your head, you shouldn’t be climbing up all these stairs. Those aren’t the kind of injuries you just ‘walk off’, Prompto.”

“It’s not that bad, I promise. Just …tender.” Prompto squirmed to the end of the bench, putting as much space between himself and Gladiolus as possible. “I, uh, I guess I’ll get going. The path isn’t going to climb itself!” He scrambled up and headed back to the trail, movements stiff and strained. The shield was not far behind, face a mask of near-anger.

Gladiolus was many things; patient was not one of them. He also didn’t do well with bullshit. Or boundaries.

He stomped up behind Prompto, who had mounted the bottom step of the next flight of stairs. He grabbed Prompto by both arms and held on tight, getting himself a good look at the back of the blonde’s head.

The boy went still in his grip, letting out a breathy whimper. There was definitely some bruising hiding under the golden tresses, bleeding down from the crown and spreading to behind his left ear. But there were no lacerations or abrasions, nothing to indicate that the bruise should even be there. If he didn’t know better, the warrior would have chalked the large purple splotch up to a birthmark. It was weird, to say the least.

His grip unconsciously tightened as his eyes trailed down to where the collar of Prompto’s oversized shirt gaped open and he found some abrasions and scratches there. “…the fuck?”

“Please let me go.” The request was whispered, followed by several shallow breaths and a gentle tug in Gladiolus’ grip.

His fingers loosened involuntarily at the request, and Prompto shot up several steps before turning to face him. “J-just let it go, ok? I told you I’m clumsy.”

“I’m not arguing that point, Kid. But I also think you’re not telling me everything.”

Prompto stared down at one of the steps between them, biting his lower lip. “I, uhhhmm…” he trailed off, looking ready to cry.

Gladiolus cleared his throat, reaching out to the younger boy, but thinking better of the action and dropping his hand back to his side. “Is it bullies? I know you don’t live in the best of areas, and being a Niff—“

“Y-yeah!” Prompto immediately jumped onto his train of thought. “Bullies. But it’s ok! I can mostly avoid them.”

Gladiolus shook his head. “Yeah, I see how well that’s working for you. You’ve literally gone to the edge of Insomnia to avoid them, and you shouldn’t have to do that.” He smiled then, and winked up at Prompto who cocked his head to the side curiously. “I can always teach you some self defense moves, you know. There’s no reason to take a beating, Prompto. I can give you the tools to fight back.”

Prompto swallowed hard, but nodded along. “Uhm, yeah, ok. That could be cool.”

“Good, we’ll set something up for next week. And you can always call me if you need me. Having a big scary friend can be a great deterrent to bullies.” Gladiolus mounted the stairs and started climbing up, quickly passing Prompto. “C’mon. If you insist on getting up there, at least take my company just in case you’re more injured than you think. No point of dying up here all by yourself, you know.”

A shadow flitted across the younger boy’s face, but Gladiolus’ back was turned to him and it was not seen. Taking a deep breath, Prompto began following the shield up the side of the cliff.

 

* * *

 

**_Three nights before Gladiolus’ generous offer to help Prompto learn to fend off his ‘bullies’ found the freckled youth in a heap of trouble. School ending for the year had happened to coincide with a long stint at home for his parents, and though they were at work most weekdays, tensions were still riding high in the house. They’d already come to a head hours before we join the scene, and currently our young friend is kneeling on the living room floor, doing his best to be as unobtrusive as possible. His infraction? Defending himself from a rare violent onslaught at the hands of his mother._ **

Mr. Argentum eyed Prompto from his spot in a blue recliner directly in front of the television. His wife was in her rocking chair, nursing a glass of wine and working on a needlepoint project. The house had been blissfully quiet since their little altercation earlier, the only sounds were the clattering of his beer cans as he downed one after another, and the droning of the nightly news anchor.

Even Prompto’s occasional sniffles and moans had petered off over the last hour or so.

“See?” He said, glaring back at his son when the boy made eye contact with him. “See how much better things are when we all get along?”

He was vindicated as the boy nodded and went back to looking at the floor.

“Have you learned your lesson?” He asked, a little condescension creeping into his tone.

Prompto nodded emphatically, but continued his staring contest with the carpet. “Y-yes, sir. I’m sorry sir.”

The man regarded his son for an uncomfortable stretch of time before finally nodding. “You can go to bed, then.”

Prompto struggled to his feet, doing his best to keep his expression neutral as every movement tugged on the slowly swelling welts laid across his backside. “Yes, sir. Uhm, can we…? Is it ok if…?” He gestured vaguely with his head to where his hands were tied in front of him, shrugging his shoulders spastically.  

Earlier that day, his mother had been berating Prompto about the lawn, and she had gotten rather loud and pushy. Literally. And after about the fifth time she shoved him into the counter, he shoved her back. Just a little. Just enough to make her back up and stop screaming directly in his face.

But it was too much. He was so stupid, he should have seen it coming, really. She’d called his father in and told him that Prompto had attacked her. The large man had become instantly enraged, and closed the distance between himself and his son in two short strides, already screaming obscenities.

Mr. Argentum lifted the boy by the shirt front and shook him fiercely, the toes of his worn sneakers scraping against the tiles. He then threw Prompto against the counter ledge hard enough to knock the breath from the blonde’s lungs. Prompto crumpled to the ground, gasping almost comically in an attempt to expand lungs that refused to budge.

Mr. Argentum leaned down and gripped Prompto by his over-long hair and drug him to the living room, dropping him in front of an old brown ottoman.

“Strip.” The man barked at his son, and rolled his eyes when the boy was slow to react. He growled in frustration as Prompto’s hands shook while he still shuddered and gasped for breath. He snatched at the boy’s collar, pulling the shirt up and over his head before gripping him by the hair again and forcing him face down on the ottoman. He quickly pulled off the boy’s shoes, jeans, and boxers, throwing them to the side.

“You don’t want to be civil in my household? You don’t want to follow our rules? Isn’t it bad enough that we have to live with the shame of harboring a _Niff_ in our home? With all the atrocities your kind has committed against good Lucians, you’re lucky we don’t put you in the street! Your mother’s brother was _killed_ by one of your kind, for Astral’s sake!” While he rained down his vitriol, Mr. Argentum set to work removing his belt and wrapping the tongue of it around his hand, letting the buckle end dangle down.

Prompto was up on his elbows, finally taking in oxygen when the first strike was laid across his shoulders. The beating that ensued was nothing short of relentless, his father concentrating the bulk of the abuse across his lower back, ass, and thighs.

When he was done and Prompto was dry-sobbing and too weak to put up even a semblance of a fight, the older man grabbed him by that same shock of hair and pulled him over to kneel a few feet away from the recliner, muttering about how this was supposed to teach Prompto to keep his hands to himself. He bound the boy’s arms in front of him, wrapping the belt from wrist to elbow and securing it impossibly tight.

The man had never heard of irony, apparently.

As expected, Prompto’s request for release was denied, and he slowly picked his way upstairs and did his best to take care of his nightly ablutions with his limited mobility. This was a messy and demeaning experience, but not one uncommon to the teen.

He’d wiggled his way under his blankets and got as comfortable as he could and was just drifting off when a weight dragged him sputtering to full consciousness. His mother has slipped in the room and was now leaning into his lower back with one knee, digging in over the top of fresh welts and old bruises and then she twisted her hand into his hair and yanked his head up and back, holding it in such a position that his breaths came out in high pitched wheezes. He tried desperately to balance himself on his elbows to take some of the pressure off, but it was not use with the way his arms were bound.

“ _Don’t you ever dare cross me again, you little shit.”_ She dug in sharply with her knee for emphasis on her last words, hissing at him to shut up when he whimpered in pain. She was quiet, and the scent of smoke curled around Prompto as she took a drag from her cigarette, making it even more difficult to breathe.

She began again, keeping up her hissing whisper. “ _Your kind are nothing more than a blight on our world. Every shitty thing comes from Niflheim; the Star Scourge, the daemons, the godsdamned war. Even King Regis can count his failing health among the things that the Niffs have done to the rest of us._ ” She dug in deeper, pulled back on his head harder as hot tears slid down her face and splashed against his bare back. “ _How long do you think it will take before your precious Prince Noctis sees you for what you really are, you fucking monster?”_

She dropped his head, then, but before she lifted her weight off of him, she pressed the burning cherry of her cigarette into the middle of his back, effectively putting it out as he gasped wetly. She dropped it in the bed next to him as she finally fully rose from the bed and made her way out of the room.

Prompto curled up as best he could, burrowing into himself. “ _I’m not a monster…not a montster…”_ his whispered mantra was broken and full of lies and lulled him into a dark, nightmarish sleep.


	5. chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok, so this is a short chapter for such a long wait, but ...well I'm human and have been busy lol. The final chapter will more than make up for it, I promise. I just can't promise it will be out in under two weeks. We'll see how my weekend goes and how much over time i can snag at work. Yay, money! I do hope you enjoy!

**_Noctis has been waiting for what feels like forever. He’s been double and triple checked by the nervous EMT, re-bandaged twice, and had his vitals taken no less than five times. He attempted to sneak out when Gladiolus had come in to get his face looked at, but alas he was blocked by the second EMT who had stationed herself firmly by the back door. He even tried using his royal authority to get past them, to no avail. He is sitting on the gurney when the doors open again and Prompto boards the vehicle._ **

Noctis leapt to his feet when his best friend was finally in view, and he bumped the nervous EMT aside as he rushed up to the other boy. His elated expression soon morphed into one of sad concern, though, and the air between them crackled with timidity when the blonde wouldn’t meet his eyes.

The apology that fell from Prompto’s lips was a whisper that rang loudly in Noctis’ ear. Heart in his throat, the prince reached tentatively forward to rest his hand upon the boy’s left shoulder. “Prompto, you don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

The blonde stepped back out of Noctis’ grasp, shaking his head as tears welled up in his eyes. “Of course I do! Don’t you see? I fuck everything up, Noct—“

Prompto trailed off as Noctis reached out and held on to his shoulders, his midnight irises brightening under the sudden welling of tears. “You didn’t fuck anything up, Prom,” he said, voice catching on the other boy’s name. “All I see is my best friend.”

Prompto seemed to relax a little at that and he gave Noctis a shy smile before he glanced nervously over at the paramedic.  He leaned into Noctis a little and whispered: “Do you think we could just go back to your apartment, or something? I’m sure Iggy will be ok enough to help me if I need it.”

Noctis shook his head emphatically. “Uh-uh, no go, Prom. Let the nice man check you out.” He waggled his eyes playfully, attempting to lighten the mood.

Prompto rolled his eyes at the quip, shaking his head and stepping back. “Gladio already gave me a potion. If you’re ok, then can we please just go?”

The prince let out a breathy sigh, rubbing at the sore spot on the back of his head with his bandaged hand. “If you still look like that after a potion, then you need medical attention, Prom. You can either get it here, or you can go to the hospital. Your call.”

Prompto worried his bottom lip as he weighed his options. Finally he nodded and maneuvered past Noctis, not looking at anyone as he gingerly boosted himself up on the gurney.

Noctis shuffled back to be closer to the doors, letting the other EMT start getting supplies together for Prompto.

Everything earlier had happened so fast that Noctis didn’t have time to fully take in all of Prompto’s injuries. Now, as the prince watched the other boy awkwardly remove his shirt, he wished he could go back to two hours ago and this time kill Mr. Argentum.

There were bruises littering Prompto’s torso. From his right collarbone down to his hip, then across his lower stomach and down into still-clothed regions, blacks and purples and faded yellows painted his flesh in an abstract pattern of rage. What Noctis could see of his back showed signs of past abuse,

Suddenly dozens of little insensitivities Noctis had thrown the blonde’s way over the course of their friendship came back to haunt him; how many times had he poked fun at his friend for awkwardly standing while everyone else lounged on the couch? ( _standing burns calories, duh Noct_ )

How many comments had he made about the blonde’s shyness in gym class—how he always used the privacy stalls to change, and never used the group shower? ( _bro, I just don’t want every dude in the world seeing my junk; that’s for my future significant someone’s eyes only!_ )

How many times had he jokingly implied that if Prompto kept staying over, Ignis was going to give him chores. ( _aw, man, your place is just so much cooler than mine! Plus, my parents aren’t even home_ )

How many times had he brushed off Prompto’s flimsy reasons for his injuries and chided the boy for his clumsiness? A storm of excuses assaulted his senses, and Noctis had to lean against the wall or risk being overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught of memories.

_“Oh, man, dude! I guess I was half asleep when I was heading down for some water last night, and I totally missed a step! How dumb am I?”_

_“Took the ole bike out for a spin yesterday; turns out you can forget how to ride one!”_

_“Bro, it’s a long story involving ducks, cheetos, and an actual banana peel. Spoiler alert: I don’t come out looking too bright.”_

_“So, I was bending down, getting something out of a lower cabinet, and Mom was getting something out of the one above me, and I guess she left it open, and so then I stood up and ::BAM:: nearly cracked by skull clean open.”_

_“How was I supposed to know that limb was down? I run that path every day, and I’ve never hit my face on anything before. I tell you, that tree had it out for me.”_

Noctis swallowed hard, bringing his focus back to his friend. The paramedic was gently prodding the boy’s ribs, and Prompto was having a hell of a time not crying out in pain. Instead he turned his watery gaze on the prince and offered him a wan smile.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Noctis mouthed, not trusting his voice.

Prompto seemed to consider the question before mouthing back that he didn’t know.

Noctis nodded, biting his lower lip hard. He put his back to the wall and slid down to the floor, hugging his knees to his chest. He did his best to ignore Prompto’s whimpers as they paramedics continued their work, but it was hard.

How could he call himself a friend when he’d not seen that Prompto needed him?

 

* * *

 

**_Two months ago, at a prestigious gala event that Noctis was forced to attend, Prompto and the prince were doing their best to be quiet little wallflowers until a particularly inebriated guest decided to intervene and ruin their perfectly good time._ **

“For Six sake.” Noctis muttered and rolled his eyes, attempting to shrink down even more than he already was, despite Ignis’ almost audible glare from across the room.

He and Prompto were posted up at the farthest corner table they could manage in the ballroom. This was the blonde’s first black tie event, and Noctis was not at all surprised at how well he was doing. He knew his friend just needed a little confidence boost now and again, and he was ready to take on nearly any situation.

Unfortunately, Lord Nauswessle was heading their way to test this theory, and there was no time to escape the greasy, hawkish man.

“Oh, young Prince Noctis! I’ve been looking for you all evening.” Nauswessle smiled wobbly down at him, pointedly ignoring Prompto. “You know, my dear boy, I’ve sent multiple invitations to you join myself and my children for dinner, and none have ever been replied to.” Here, he cast a snide glance towards Ignis, who stood chatting up a socialite from Tennebrae. “I’m supposing they simply were lost in transit.”

Noctis gave the man his best royal smile, shaking his head. “I assure you, Lord Noseweasle (this was immediately snorted at by Prompto, who quieted quickly under the drunk man’s stare), I received each of the invitations. I simply declined to acknowledge them.”

The inebriated man regarded him momentarily, seemingly trying to decide if he had heard the prince correctly. “My apologies, Your Highness, but it’s pronounced _Nahz-westle._ Nauswessle. I don’t understand how so many people have trouble with it. It’s a good Lucien name.” He shook his head, muttering under his breath. “At any rate, I do hope you decide to take us up on our kind offer. I also have a Tennebraen servant; he’s not quite as good of a cook as yours, but he does alright.” He sent another smirk Ignis’ way, this time catching the eye of the adviser, who frowned politely.

Noctis’s eyes went stormy, and he straightened up and leaned forward in his chair. The unfortunate noble seemed to not notice the atmosphere around them change, and continued oblivious to the prince’s anger.

Lord Nauswessle turned his bright, beady gaze on Prompto, mouth quivering at the edges in a barely-there smile as the boy sunk lower in his seat. “And we certainly don’t attract the kind of Niflheim riffraff the Citadel seems to—“

Though still considerably shorter than the noble before him, Noctis loomed at the man as he stood, a bit of his royal shadow giving him a substantial bearing.

“ _This_ ,” he intoned, “is Prompto Argentum, guest of the royal family. You will speak _to_ him and _of_ him with respect, do you understand?”

A hush fell over the surrounding tables, and behind the old man Ignis was breaking away from his conversation to head over and hopefully prevent a scandal.

Lord Nauswessle sputtered indignantly at the young royal. “I beg _pardon_ , Highness, but we are at _war_. Perhaps you are too young to understand the implications of your cavorting with a Niflheimian _rat_ , but the rest of us do.” He pointed at Prompto, who had gone pale and was staring at the floor blankly during the man’s tirade. “The prince here may think you’re worth more than you are, but the rest of us wouldn’t mind seeing the entirety of the Niflheim blight snuffed from existence.”

Noctis put himself between Prompto and the drunk noble. The room around the two of them darkened just a little at his slow advance. “You,” he began, voice low and menacing, “ _insult_ my adviser, spew racism at my friend, and have the _audacity_ to allude to committing genocide during a social event? What is wrong with you?”

A light went off in the older man’s eyes that had not been there before. Some of the inebriated cobwebs cleared as the prince’s words sunk in.

“I, uh, no, Your Highness…” he was visibly sweating, now, and attempting to back away. “It was not my intention to… _genocide_ , no of course not…”

“Perhaps you’d like an escort from the premises, Lord Nauswessle?” Ignis, smooth as ever, took the man by the elbow and lead him from the table, ignoring the whispering that rose and ebbed in his wake.

“What an asshole.” Noctis grumbled, plopping back down in his chair. Next to him, Prompto relaxed minutely, taking a sip of water.

“Yeah,” he replied quietly, and didn’t speak more than two sentences for the rest of the night.

 

* * *

 

**_In a perfect world, only people who loved and cared for children would get to raise them._ **

**_But we do not live in a perfect world._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of trouble with this chapter, because I really wanted to kind of delve into the minds of the parents, but in the end I decided to end this chapter after only those last two lines because I thought it a bit more impactful than simply explaining the reasoning behind them becoming the abusers they are. The research into that turned out to be even more depressing than I thought, not to mention extremely hard to write without going into a novel-length case history of them. Ultimately what the end of the chapter said is true. We do not live in a perfect world. Sometimes, if effing sucks, and terrible things happen to people who don't deserve it.
> 
> Usually I end these notes with 'stay brutal', but today I'm ending it with 'be kind' cause we all need a bit more of it. ::hearts you all::


	6. this is the end, part one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! First, I do apologize for the long wait. Due to a sad event and a bit of depression/mini existential crises, I lost pretty much all my motivation there for a while., But I'm slowly and surely getting back into the swing of things! This is the first half of the last chapter, and I hope to have the last half up soon! I just didn't want you guys to wait any longer for at least a little something. Chocobo and giveaways are slowly but surely readied for publication as well.
> 
> Tumblr: http://kaciart.tumblr.com/post/169442852008
> 
> Above is the comic that this is based on, created by the lovely kaciart, who is by far my favorite muse.

**_Once the boy undressed in the ambulance, a female officer came to take photos and catalogue his injuries. Now, Noctis and Prompto—having been reluctantly released by the EMTs—were sitting together on Prompto’s worn couch, while Cor stood in front of Mr. Argentum’s overturned armchair. The coffee table between them is in shambles and a few broken bottles are scattered in the wreckage—one stained the rusty red of dried blood. There is a tiny cone placed next to it with the number 5 printed on its garish orange surface. Prompto stares at it, his expression unreadable._ **

“…mpto…?” Noctis’ face looms before him, drawn and worried and slightly angry.

The blonde grunted softly in response, not taking his eyes away from the evidence marker. Outside the front door—which stood askew and would likely never shut properly again—Gladiolus and Ignis murmured softly with the female police officer that had taken the shield’s statement earlier.

Unable to contain a protracted sigh, Cor stepped to the side so he was directly in the blonde’s line of sight before he crouched down. He waited for Prompto to meet his gaze before he spoke. “I know it’s been a difficult night, son. I can only imagine what you’ve been through—what you’ve probably _been_ going through.” He paused, making sure he had Prompto’s full attention before he continued.

“I’ve already spoken with Ignis and Gladiolus, and a few of the witnesses outside. I want to assure you that _you_ are not in trouble, here. I have a pretty good idea of what’s happened, but I need you and Noctis to fill me in, okay?”

Prompto bit his lower lip, cringing a little at the pain. The potion that Gladiolus had tricked him into taking earlier had healed some of the more immediate damage, but the injuries from earlier in the day and the week prior were still very much present. Finally, he nodded. “…where should I start?”

Cor stood back up, shaking his lightly cramping legs out as he shuffled away. “Well, the beginning would be ideal.”

Prompto chuckled humorlessly. “That would take a while, sir.”

Noctis reached over and began to gently rub circles in between Prompto’s shoulder blades. “How about you start with Friday?” He prompted, pursing his lips in anticipation of a deflection.

But Prompto only nodded and cleared his throat lightly. “Y-yeah, I guess that’s as good a place as any.” But he fell silent after uttering the words, his eyes trailing back to the blood stained bottle.

Following the blonde’s line of sight, Cor frowned again. “He’s okay, you know. Standing right outside the door and everything.” He swept a hand towards where the shield still lingered on the stoop.

Prompto let out a stuttering sigh, and Noctis trailed his hand down his back, pulling him into a small side hug before taking his hand. “It’s okay, Prom. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“Yeah.” The blonde absently agreed. Then, so quietly only Noctis could hear, he whispered: “ _I’m sorry.”_

The prince only squeezed his fingers in reply.

“This…this is all my fault. If only I’d have just—“ Prompto let out a choked sob, shaking his head. “I dunno; been stronger? Maybe if I had been a better son—or better at defending myself. Maybe if I _hadn’t_ defended myself…?”

Before anyone could interrupt his rambling, Prompto darted his eyes between Cor and Noctis before settling once again in his lap. “Right, so well, uhm Friday...“

* * *

**_Prompto ran up to Noctis after the final bell rang. Though they had several classes together, the last period of the day was the elective hour, and Prompto spent his in Photography and Noctis in Creative Writing. The blonde was anxious, as Noctis had not mentioned their plans to him earlier in the day. Prompto didn’t want to appear pushy, because he’d spent the last nine consecutive weekends at the Prince’s apartment. This meant he’d successfully avoided a total of three weekends with his parents. His high hopes of making it through number four were dashed, however, when Noctis revealed that he was being forced to spend the weekend at the citadel attending some royal affair or another._ **

Prompto took the long way home, hoping against hope that his parents would retire early and he wouldn’t have to deal with them. He knew the possibility of them going to bed before five PM were slim to none, but he had to have something to hold on to.

But, alas, his father was in his usual position when Prompto entered their small house. The elder Argentum was in his armchair, the coffee table in front of him already covered in various cans and bottles of beer. As he moved about, his elbow jostled a bowl that sat on the arm of his chair, clanging the spoon against the side.  The older man didn’t even glance up from the news program as Prompto quietly shut the door and removed his shoes and coat.

His mother sauntered in, wine glass in one hand, cigarette in the other. She sneered as she gave Prompto a once over. “You’re actually home for once.”

The blonde swallowed hard. “H-hey, Mom, Dad. H-how are you?”

His mother rolled her eyes. “Like you give a shit. Where have you been the last few weekends we’ve been home, anyway? Surely His Royal Bratness can’t want you around _that much_. He’s got to be tired of you by now.”

His father snorted before Prompto could fumble out an answer. “I told you that he’s nothing but a royal cockwarmer. Probably sleeps with the prince’s lil peewee in his mouth every night.”

Prompto kept his rebutte to himself. There was no use in denying his father’s ridiculous allegations; he would continue believing in whatever he wanted. Besides, Prompto wanted to get out of this with as few new bruises as possible.

His mother rolled her eyes and perched in her usual armchair, rummaging through her needlework basket as she continued to talk absently to her son. “Yes, well, whatever you’ve been up to, I’m glad you’re home now. Clean up the mess in the kitchen, will you?”

Prompto held back a put-upon sigh. “Yes, ma’am.” He shuffled to the kitchen, swinging by his father’s chair and scooping up the dirtied bowl.

Before he could slink away, his father caught his wrist, squeezing it tightly. The older man’s eyes were already red and dewy from drinking, and Prompto could read the bad night ahead in their cloudy depths. “We’re going to have a conversation, later.” He squeezed Prompto’s wrist hard enough for the bones to shift in his grip before letting the boy go.

“Y-yes sir.” Prompto hurried away, not taking another breath until he’d ducked into the kitchen. What could his father possibly want? Prompto had been doing well in school, so they can’t be mad at him about grades or absences…he rolled his eyes to himself and sighed. Knowing his father, it could be anything or nothing; probably just another excuse to take out his frustrations.

He quickly set to work cleaning up the massive mess his mother had left for him, many of the dishes were obviously from this morning when they’d arrived home after he left for school. He scraped the dried, slightly burned eggs that were stuck to the non-stick pan into the trash and set it on top of the cutting board. The pot in which she’d prepared green curry soup was still on the stovetop, which was set to “low”. Heaving a large, but nearly silent sigh, he pulled it off the burner and inspected the over-done sludge. There wasn’t enough left to consider a meal by any means, but if he made a sandwich, too—

He glanced to the pantry and nearly dropped the pot in shock. He fumbled it back into his grip at the last second before he sat it down with shaky fingers.

A newly installed hasp complete with heavy-duty padlock now held the pantry door closed.

“ _What in the actual fuck?_ ” He whispered, creeping over to it and giving it a cursory tug.

A quick glance to the refrigerator revealed a similar set-up: more locks gleaming mockingly in the harsh kitchen light.

He wanted to rage, to scream, to cry— _how dare they?_ His parents had always treated him like a burden, and sure these last few years it had gotten more and more rough, but he didn’t think they’d sink so low as to _starve_ him.

He let the emotions run through him for a few moments before locking them away. It would not be safe to express them, now. Instead, he quickly scooped up the pot with the slowly cooling remains of their dinner and ate what little of it was left. He regretted throwing out the dried egg concoction, but it was too late now.

There was no way he was going to be able to live like this. He had to get out of there. **_Tonight_ **.

Luckily, Prompto had been anticipating this for some time. Well, not _this_ , but he knew there’d be a day when he would have to leave. He was just hoping it would be closer to when he’d be getting out of high school so he could easily transition into a job and small apartment.

He supposed that’s what he got for making plans. The Six certainly seemed to be laughing at him at any rate.

His parents allotted him a certain amount to do the shopping and keep the bills in order, but they never kept track of the receipts themselves. Though they had budgeted him pretty tightly, he did them one better and was able to put away a small amount of money each week. It wasn’t much, but it would be enough to get him through a few weeks of crashing at Noctis’s or at the local shelter.

He just needed to get his things together and get out without them noticing.

He finished up the dishes as he formulated his plan. Everything he needed was upstairs. He would just have to ride out the rest of the night, and once they went to bed he could easily leave through the front door. They tended to be heavy sleepers.

After he finished up, he drifted over to the door and cleared his throat.  “Uhm, it’s clean in there. Anything else you guys need before I go and, uhm, do my h-homework?”

He cringed at the hesitation in his tone; a nervous habit he’d picked up these last few years.

“Yeah, come here and watch this news story.” His father didn’t glance his way as he spoke, eyes instead riveted on the screen where footage from a recent border skirmish was playing. He went to bypass his father to sit on the couch across from him, but the older man snapped his fingers and pointed at the floor next to his chair.

_Great,_ he thought, _it’s going to be that kind of night._ Keeping his face as neutral as possible, Prompto followed his father’s wordless directions and settled himself on the floor next to the old worn chair.

The older man sat up, reaching for the remote and turning up the volume as the anchor began to speak. He side-eyed Prompto as he drained the last of the warm backwash from a bottle of beer.

“… _the Glaives fought hard today, downing two Imperial Dropships and destroying upwards of one hundred Magitek soldiers. Brigadier General Loqi Tummelt could be heard cursing the name of The Immortal as he retreated back behind enemy lines…”_

“See that?” Prompto’s father asked, shoving Prompto in the temple with two stiff fingers. “That’s _your people_ running away from the Lucians, tails between their legs!” The elder Argentum guffawed and waved the now empty bottle of beer towards the TV. “Buncha bitches, the Niffs. Good-for-nothing cowards, the whole lot of ‘em, isn’t that right, boy?”

“Yes, sir.” Prompto agreed, not looking away from the screen which now showed a looping gif of General Tummelt comically shaking his fist at The Immortal as he jumped on a barely functioning dropship.

His father shoved his head again, but Prompto continued to be stoic. He knew the man was just looking for an excuse to start an altercation. When the physical prompts did not get the desired reaction, the elder Argentum resorted to insults. “Lookit, that bitch there even looks kind of like you. Wouldn’t be surprised if he’s some relation. I bet your real mom was a whore, slutting it up for anyone who would have her. Would explain why you so readily cozied up to the Prince; whoring just runs in your blood.”

Prompto swallowed hard around the steadily growing lump in his throat. He would not let his father provoke him.

But, he didn’t need to. Suddenly, his hair gripped in a tight fist, Prompto was lifted a few inches. His father jerked him around painfully until they could stare eye-to-eye, the blonde’s body twisted awkwardly against the arm of the chair. “You should be more grateful, you little shit. Every day I watch the news, more bullshit from the war comes in. Your people are out there murdering Lucians - killing and maiming decent, hardworking people. Your mother’s brother lost his life to some fucker who _looked just like you_. And here we are, saddled with you and all your bullshit baggage that comes along for the free fucking ride.

“You know how many promotions I’ve missed out on because I brought a fucking _Niff_ into my home?” He gripped the boy’s hair tighter, pulling Prompto close so their faces were now only inches apart. No longer able to contain himself, the blonde began scrabbling at his father’s hand, whimpering to be let go. “I’m a fucking _punchline_ around the office, thanks to you.”

“Dad, _please_ —“ Prompto coughed out, his neck held in such a position that it was tough to get breath through.

Through some miracle of mercy, his father listened to his plea, shoving him away, leaving him to gasp and sputter into the floor.                                                                   

“… _will our efforts be enough to finally beat back the Niffs and protect_ all _the citizens of Lucis? Or, are the rumors true? Has the king lost sight of his moral obligation, abandoning his most vulnerable subjects to whatever Niflheim and the daemon hordes have in store?”_

Mr. Argentum grumbled to himself as the stern-looking anchor was replaced by a blitzball clip. He rose to his feet, stumbling ever so slightly before stomping into the kitchen. There was a clanking followed by a muttered curse and then a dark chuckle. “Oh yeah.” His shadow haunted the doorway to the living room once more as he smirked down at his child.

“Did you see the improvements? T’swhat my dad said _his_ dad did when things were tight, way back when. Said it was the best way to keep everyone in line.”

Prompto bit his lip, saying nothing.

“It’ll help you from getting chunky again, too. Don’t want your fat-ass to repulse the prince, now do we? How else is he going to be your meal ticket?”

_“It’s not even like that.”_ Prompto whispered between clenched teeth.

The grin that spread across his father’s face was nothing less than satisfied. It was a strange contrast with the storm brewing in his dark eyes. “You got something to say to me, boy?”

Prompto got shakily to his feet, driven by some unknown fury that burst up from his belly, spewing words he’d never be able to take back. “I _hate_ you. I hate _both_ of you.” He spat, eyes roving wildly between his parents. “Noctis is the only person who has ever cared about me, and I _don’t_ have to suck his dick to get his love, like you seem to think!”

He stepped out from beside the armchair—swearing to himself as he did that he’d never kneel by it again. He’d never kneel for anyone again.

His father laughed. “What, do you think you’re a man, now?

“More of a man than you!” Prompto raged, clenching his fists as he strode boldly forward. He stopped a few feet from where his father stood, slack-jawed and a little impressed.

“Why did you even adopt me, huh? What was the point if all you were going to do was _hurt_ and…and _demean_ and fucking _leave_?” He swiped at his face, flicking off a stray angry tear. “You never loved me. You never even tried.” Prompto stood there, his chest heaving and violet eyes shimmering with emotion.

**…**

**… … …**

**… …**

It was not until later that night that he got the answer to his questions. After his outburst, things decidedly took a turn for the worst, and when he woke up—aching and bruised—he had trouble remembering the sequence of events or how he ended up lying in the middle of his bedroom floor.

He groaned, knowing he was in no condition to make an escape. He gingerly picked himself up and got into bed. Just as he was settled in the least painful position he could manage, the door creaked open, revealing the shadowed form of his mother silhouetted against the bright light of the hall.

She slunk her way into the room, swaying back and forth as she closed the door behind her. She smiled at him in the half-light, her lips wobbly and eyes unfocused.

When she spoke, her breath reeked of the wine she practically lived on. “I tried, you know.” Her tone was low and more than a little sad. She pushed herself off the door and sauntered over to his desk, nearly falling into the chair. Instead of adjusting it, she wrenched her body into an odd angle so she could better face him. “I’m a terrible mom.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes and turning away from her. “That much is obvious.”

She hummed and began stroking her hand along the back of the chair. “Our marriage wasn’t doing well, back then. And we tried so hard for _so long_ to have a baby of our own. But it just wouldn’t happen.

“We fought constantly; I think we were growing to resent one another.” She paused, finally noticing the awkward position of her spine. She pushed the chair out farther and readjusted her posture. She pulled a pack of cigarettes from her pocket and lit one before starting again. “So, we thought we could fix it by adopting.”

Prompto rolled over enough to face her. “What, so you could have someone small and defenseless to take your frustrations out on?”

She snorted and took a long drag from her cigarette, flicking ash onto the carpet. “No, of course not. We thought that having a child would somehow make us closer…make us grow up, I guess.”

Prompto’s awareness was starting to waver, along with the room around him. His mother’s low voice droned on in the background, working as white noise as he started to drift.

“He wasn’t quite so terrible when we were young, you know. He was always a drinker—got that from his own father, I guess. I’d heard tales, anyway…”

She took a long drag from her cigarette, hissing a little when she let out the smoke. “I didn’t know how bad he had it against your kind. If I did, I might not have…” she shakes her head and chuckles low. As Prompto allows his head to loll in her direction, he caught a few tears rolling down her cheeks.

She saw him looking, though, and was quick to swipe them away in a huff. “I guess I’m not much better, really. I hate you sometimes, you know. Like, a deep, visceral _hate._ ” She glared at him, now, but he couldn’t bring himself to be afraid. The world around him ran like water, the colors hazed and bleeding and moving just a little too slow.

She stood suddenly, dull trails following her as she swayed gently in the silence. She took another long drag from her cigarette before speaking. “You’re lucky, you know. There are a lot of kids a lot worse off. My mom was distant at best, but _boy_ did her boyfriends like to get close. My brother…he was the only one who…the only—“

Prompto barely flinched as her hand darted toward him. She stopped short of striking him and instead ran her thumb lightly along the side of his face, avoiding his split lip. “But that doesn’t matter anymore. He’s gone now, and all I have is your father and you, and that’s not really saying a lot.”

She smiled at him, then, and he wasn’t sure what she really meant by any of that. Thinking about it hurt, though, so instead he allowed himself to drift into a long and dreamless sleep.

* * *

 

**_The room around them is silent. At some point during Prompto’s recitation, Ignis and Gladiolus had drifted in. Outside, the Crownsguard finally arrived and were currently dismissing the small crowd, and the city police had taken Mrs. Argentum in for questioning and probable arrest. Everyone present allowed the freckled youth to collect himself before pressing onward._ **

The blonde sniffed, glancing over to his friend. “I guess…I guess I thought I had it, you know? Like, they’re gone most of the time, so it was never that much of a big deal. And, I couldn’t risk having to go and live in one of those half-way houses in the Niff District. I’ve seen what some of them have to do to get by, and I just don’t wanna end up like that.

“I have a good chance of getting a scholarship, and coming from _our_ school, that’s saying something. _Especially_ for a refugee adoptee from the poor side of town. I figured that in some ways I was paying my dues—I mean; I’m really lucky if you think about it.”

“What do you mean you’re _lucky_?!” Noctis scoffed, eyes popping wide in alarm. In the hall where Gladiolus and Ignis stood, an audible curse was uttered, quickly followed by the shuffling of one of them shoving the other into the kitchen.

Prompto shrugged, slowly pulling his hand out of the prince’s. “I dunno. I mean, well, I’m obviously a Niff, but I got to grow up in not only _Lucis_ , but _Insomnia_. This is like the best city in the world to live in if you like freedom, technology, and not getting eaten by daemons. Plus, if I didn’t get adopted by the Argentums, it could have been someone worse, or maybe not even at all. I may not have ever met you guys.” He glanced up shyly at Noctis, searching for any sign of anger or frustration.

But the raven-haired teen only smiled sadly at his friend. “Prom, you’re the most wonderful and positive person I’ve ever met. I’m so sorry you’ve gone through such shit in your life, and I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me most.”

Prompto cocked his head at Noctis, one corner of his mouth tugging down in a half-frown. “Uh, dude, I would consider today to probably be the day I needed you most, and you were here without my asking.”

But Noctis only shook his head. “No, I should have noticed it before today, but none of the pieces really clicked together. Of course, it doesn’t help that I was too dumb to see I was putting a puzzle together in the first place.”

Cor, who was now leaning against the wall opposite the front door, cleared his throat to get the boys’ attention. “Alright, Kid, what happened after you went to sleep—for lack of a better term—on Friday?”

Prompto shook his head. “I’m not really sure. When I was next fully aware, it was Sunday night, and no one but me was home. I kind of remember hearing some kind of fight or something, and I’m pretty sure Mom came and checked on me a few times, but nothing really concrete.

“When I went downstairs on Sunday night, they were gone. No note or anything. I, uh, couldn’t really make it back upstairs under my own power, so I stayed on the couch that night and most of Monday. Tuesday I was a bit more mobile, so I cleaned myself up and was able to get my shit together, and then today…you know, I went to school and was trying to just get back to normal. I’d learned my lesson. But..I guess I wasn’t expecting them to come back so soon.”

Noctis nodded along. “They were here when we dropped him off. His face—he looked so…” the prince frowned, reaching out and taking Prompto’s hand once more. “He looked scared, and I _knew_ he was lying to me about what happened, _little bit hit by a car my ass._ ”

Though there was no real heat to his words, Prompto shrunk back from Noctis ever so slightly.

Cor pushed himself off the wall, facing Noctis. In the hall behind him, Gladiolus and Ignis had made a reappearance, both looking a little pale.

“So tell me what happened after school, Prince Noctis. Walk me through the events that get us here.” The marshal’s tone was brisk, but gentle.

The raven haired teen nodded, readjusting himself on the couch so that he could better face his friend. “Well, it had been four days since I’d last heard from Prom, and I was getting worried…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to MsC, who beta reads when I remember to throw the word at her. She's glorious.
> 
> Thanks so much for your continued support! I appreciate your patience :)) Until next time, my dudes!


	7. this is the end, part two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for your patience.

**_Noctis was on high alert ever since Prompto arrived to homeroom. He’d already decided he would have Ignis drive him over to the blonde’s place after the last bell if he didn’t show up. A wave of relief washed over him when his friend had shown; but it was short lived and soon alarm took its place. Prompto’s face a mask of cheer, he waved off the visible bruising on his face with a shake of his busted arm. He even had the nerve to laugh it off, and this was not the first time._ **

**_Everything was falling into place; Noctis just didn’t get the full picture in time._ **

Noctis found Prompto after the final bell and all but dragged him out the back of the school to where Ignis waited with the car. He’d taken no argument from the other boy in regards to letting him walk. For good measure, he took the blonde’s school jacket and backpack, throwing them in ahead of himself as he boarded the vehicle.

Prompto murmured a greeting to the advisor before climbing in the back as well.

They rode in near silence most of the way to Prompto’s little house. That was until they pulled onto the street and the blonde’s breathing picked up, hitching ever so slightly.

It got worse when they pulled into the driveway next to his parent’s car.  He blindly grabbed for his bag, accidentally clutching Noctis’s wrist instead of the proffered strap. The prince’s eyes traveled down to where the cuff of Prompto’s shirt rode up, revealing thin layers of bruising crisscrossing his arm.

“Prom—“ Noctis tried to talk over Prompto’s apology, but his words were lost in his friend’s sudden high-pitched rambling.

“Uhm, s-sorry, Noct. Thanks for the ride, Iggy! Bye, bro!” He shot them both a wavering smile and hobbled out of the car, rushing to the front door. It opened for him and Mr. Argentum stood just inside the threshold, glowering at the boy. Casting a baleful glance at the car, Mr. Argentum stood aside and ushered Prompto through, saying something to him as he passed that made the boy snap his head up and stare at his father incredulously.

Noctis swallowed hard as the door swung shut and Ignis backed down the driveway.

“Your Highness?” Ignis asked tentatively from the front seat, but at the same time Noctis was blurting out “I think Prompto’s parents are hurting him!” in a rushed, rage filled tone.

Ignis caught his eyes in the rearview mirror and gave him a slight nod. “I suspect you’re right.” He considered his next words carefully. “What did he say about his absence and injuries when he came to school this morning?”

Noctis huffed out a bitter laugh. “Said he wasn’t paying attention and got ‘a little bit hit by a car’ near that dog park he likes to jog in. But I don’t believe him.”

Ignis pulled over to the side of the road and tapped out a quick text message. “If Prompto is indeed in a dangerous situation, we need to make sure we can prove it beyond a shadow of a doubt before we bring it to the authorities.” He signaled and pulled back into traffic. “Instead of going to your apartment, how about we swing by Gladio’s? I think we need to have a discussion before we take any rash actions.”

“Way ahead of you, Specs.” Noctis murmured as he pulled out his own phone and scrolling through his contacts. He wanted to be sure that Gladiolus got the _right_ message, loud and clear.

 

* * *

 

**_Noctis, Ignis and Gladiolus gathered in the shield’s bedroom to discuss the situation in hushed tones. They swapped anecdotes of things that seemed innocuous at the time they occurred, but now were cast in a more sinister light. How could they not know? How could they not at least suspect? They lapsed into silence for a short eternity until Ignis’s phone broke through the cloud of self-loathing permeating the room._ **

After reading the messages several times, the adviser cleared his throat uncomfortably. “When we left Prompto’s, I sent a message to a friend to pull some data for me. “

Noctis crossed his arms and leaned against Gladiolus’s closet door, exchanging glances with his shield. “Let me guess, no record of a hit-and-run at his favorite park?”

Ignis cast his charge a wry smile. “Correct. I had the footage pulled from the local security cameras as well, and as far as I can tell, Prompto never went jogging in that park over the weekend. So I did a little more digging…” he murmured to himself as he searched for the right section of texts. “When you and Prompto first started hanging around each other, we of course checked his background. Other than a few health incidents and other hospitalizations, no red flags were raised. We were aware his parents traveled, but again, there were no true causes for concern.

“Our negligence,” he continued, “was in not following up and keeping track. After the initial check, we are only notified if he is the subject of an emergency service, such as an arrest or ambulance trip. If we’d…if I’d—“

Ignis sighed deeply, handing his phone over to the prince. “There have been two wellness checks by social services to his home after the school reported signs of abuse and neglect. Both cases were closed rather quickly, with notes that all members of the family had been talked to separately, and all had corroborating stories about the injuries in question. A third visit was declined by the organization.”

A storm of anger rolled over Noctis’s features as he read the allegations. “Why would they—“

“I’m not sure, Noctis, I’m still looking into that. If I were to guess, I would say that after two closed claims, they probably assumed the next would turn out the same. Agencies like that are overworked and understaffed, and unfortunately kids like Prompto slip through the cracks—“

“So,” Noctis said the word slowly, darkly. “You’re saying that the people responsible for protecting innocent kids just give up after two tries?”

“Noct—“

“Fuck that, Iggy. Princess is right, they— _we’ve_ all failed him.” Gladio grumbled from where he sat stiffly upon his bed.

The prince pushed himself off the closet door, setting Ignis with a fiery gaze. “Well I won’t be failing him anymore. Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

**_There had probably been an hour and a half’s time between dropping Prompto off at his home and them pulling back onto that very same street._ **

**_They decided on an innocuous approach—Prompto had forgotten his jacket in the car, and they just wanted to return it to him. A totally normal thing for a friend to do. They would get Prompto outside and point blank tell him their suspicions and help him if he let them. (Gladio had mumbled something about helping him even if he didn’t want it, and the other two ignored the statement)_ **

**_It seemed like a pretty solid plan. But then Noctis happened, and everything went to shit._ **

The three got out of the car, closing the doors quietly. Ignis and Noctis made their way over to the other side where they hesitated, going over final details.

However, just as they steeled themselves to approach the door, a frail voice called to them, halting them in their tracks.

An old woman waved to them from the end of the driveway, hand full of envelopes from the mailbox she’d just checked. She ambled her way towards them, her wrinkled face folded in lines of concern. “Please tell me you’re here to help that boy.” She asked loudly. “I called so so many times, but they just don’t care.”

Ignis shot a glance over to Noctis and Gladiolus, brow furrowing. “Who doesn’t care?”

The old woman shook her head, twisting her lips down in disgust. “Social services. Last time they was here, I asked them—same as I asked you—if they was gonna help that boy. They said ‘ **_the Niff_ ** ’—said it just like that, too, like calling the boy what he is left a bad taste in their mouth—said that _he_ was fine, _they_ was fine…but I’ve seen them hurt that boy. Seen it a few months back when he was sleeping on the porch, sportin’ a busted lip. Seen that man just the other day haul off and punch the poor kid like he was grown—“

Ignis’s quickly gestured for the other two to continue without him. “Ma’am,” he asked as they started away, “would you be willing to go on the record saying that? I’m about to have some friends come down here right now—“

Their voices faded out and the beating of his heart faded in as Noctis approached the door to the Argentum household. Steeling himself, the prince did his best to contain the fury building within him. He clutched the collar of Prompto’s jacket in one white-knuckled fist, and the other was braced to pound on the door.

“Easy, now.” Gladiolus said from behind him, his gruff tone uncharacteristically soft. “We want to help Blondie, not get him in more trouble.”

Noctis sighed, forcibly relaxing his shoulders before knocking like a normal person. It was several agonizing moments before a tired-looking Mrs. Argentum opened the door just a crack.

She gave them a grimace that was likely supposed to be a smile, but was far too aggressive to be considered friendly. “Your Highness,” she began, flicking her eyes toward Gladiolus, who stood behind Noctis. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Her breath was laced with cheap white wine, and the scent made Noctis’s stomach churn. He shook the jacket in his hand lightly, giving the woman a fake royal smile. “My apologies, Mrs. Argentum, but it seems as if Prompto left this in my car—“

She rolled her eyes, scoffing a bit. “Yes, he’s such a thoughtless boy. I’ll just give it to him—“ she made to snatch at the garment, but Noctis pulled it out of her reach.

“I was hoping I could talk to him about an assignment we had? I would have called, but he said his phone was broken in the accident.” he finished smoothly, his royal façade slipping comfortably into place.

She pursed her lips, glancing behind herself before answering. “He’s not home. I’ll let him know you stopped by, Your Highness.” She went to grab the jacket again, but he stepped back with it, nearly bumping into Gladiolus.

“Did he go on a jog? I can wait.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but snapped it shut again as a very distinct Prompto voice called out from somewhere in the house.

They could not make out exactly what he was saying, but his voice was high and panicked and a faint rustling accompanied his cries.

The reaction was instant; rage burned its way hot and fast through the prince’s veins as the air around them grew thick with his ire. “Prompto?!” He stepped forward, eyes blazing.

He lunged forward, but was stopped by the sudden slamming of the door. Noctis screamed in frustration as the latches were thrown just as he rammed into the door.

He was tempted to warp through the barrier, but the last time he tried it had been a painful disaster. He could not fuck this up.

“Invoke your right as Prince, Noctis!” Ignis called as left the old woman by the car, feet slapping against the faux cobblestone walk as he rushed to join them. He was barking instructions into his phone as he approached, determination hardening his features.

Noctis shot his adviser an incredulous look. “I highly doubt that’ll work.”

Ignis rolled his eyes and gestured impatiently. “Just godsdamned do it, Noct!”

Ignis pressed a button on his phone and held it out, nodding to Noctis. Snarling, the raven-haired teen swiveled back and pounded his fist against the wood three times. “As Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum, I command you to open your house to me!”

For a brief moment, everyone paused as if they expected the door to do as he ordered. After a heartbeat of silence, Ignis spoke into the phone. “You heard that? Did everyone hear that?”

A tinny voice on the other side answered in the affirmative.

“Alright. Gladiolus, break it down!” Ignis nodded to his companion, who grinned.

“With pleasure.” He muttered and paced to the end of the walk while Ignis pulled Noctis into the grass, giving the big warrior plenty of room.

Gladiolus dug in his heels, running straight for the door with his shoulder up and head tucked in. It shattered off its hinges on the first try and he continued into the house, Ignis and Noctis close behind.

“Prompto?!” Noctis called, searching the immediate vicinity for his friend and coming up empty.

Signaling for the others to stay behind him, Gladiolus stepped lightly down the short hall, checking first the kitchen on the left, then up the stairs in front of them. He glanced behind him, nodding for Ignis to step forward.

The adviser cleared his throat. He’d set his phone to record, and held it firmly in front of him. He knew what they were doing was ridiculous and dangerous, but he believed this was the best way—the system had already failed Prompto, his friends would not. Not anymore.

Gladiolus signaled for them to stop as he came to the archway. From their vantage point, they could see up the stairs and a small part of the landing above. As they stared on horror stricken, Prompto stumbled into view, Noctis’s name upon his lips. The boy’s arms were tied in front of him, and blood streaked down his face from a cut in his eyebrow.

Mr. Argentum was close behind, roaring like a behemoth in heat. The older man—not quite as tall as Ignis, but broad and with as much muscle as he had fat—caught up to the boy and snagged him by the collar, yanking him off balance and slamming him bodily into the stair railing. Noctis cringed at the resounding crack of the wood.

He hoped it was the wood.

Unable to stop his momentum, Prompto stumbled down the first two steps, and his father followed after. “You good for nothing Niff!” He shouted, kicking Prompto in the side, sending him tumbling down the rest of the flight of stairs.

Noctis was by his side in an instant, hands hovering over his body in a need to help, but not hurt in the process. He glanced up to where Mr. Argentum’s face twisted first in confusion, then in fury as he began stomping his way towards them.

Out of time, Noctis tugged a slowly-rousing Prompto to his feet, pulling him toward the door. Gladiolus and Ignis smoothly stepped between them and the older man, buying the prince a little time.

“Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing?! You can’t be here!” Mr. Argtentum bellowed, trying to force himself between the two to where Noctis was now half-dragging Prompto across the threshold and out into the open air.

He finally shoved his way past Noctis’ entourage, giving his wife a dirty look as he rushed after the younger teens.

“You’ve no right—“ he sputtered, brushing past the old woman who had taken up sentry just beyond the faux cobblestone path.

Noctis whirled on him, dragging a disoriented Prompto with him. “The hell I don’t! You’ve been hurting your son, for six sake!”

But Mr. Argentum just snorted, rolling his eyes. “Right. _My_ son, if you can even call him that! He’s a fucking Niff, or are you too stupid to tell? Nothing but a monster in there, boy. Monster waiting to happen.”

Glaring, Noctis hiked Prompto up a little further, renewing his grip on the listing boy. “You’re the only monster I see here.”

Behind Mr. Argentum, Gladiolus and Ignis were exiting the house, coming around to flank the prince and his charge.

The older man wiped a hand down his face, glaring at each one of them in turn before settling back on Prompto. “Get in the house, boy,” he growled. “Get in there now, if you know what’s good for you.”

The blonde, bless/curse him, actually tried to push himself out of Noctis’ grip. The attempt was weak at best; his arms—still tightly lashed together with what appeared to be an old phone cord—bobbed uselessly in front of him. When he tried to speak, his voice was strained and slurred. “S’ok, Noct! Please…juss… is fine. Please juss go. Don’ wanna…he’ll hurt you…”

Noctis huffed. “Dude, there’s no way I’m leaving you here with that maniac.”

Mr. Argentum, however, drew himself up as if he won. “You’re not Prince of my house, you little shit. Now go on before I give you something your father should have given you a long time ago.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Noctis spat as Gladiolus swept in front of the two younger teens.

Mr. Argentum shrugged. “Seems to me you’re a bit uppity. Could probably do with getting taken down a peg or two.”

Gladio drew himself up to his full height, looking down at the older man, his expression grim. “Did you just threaten the Crown Prince with bodily harm? Please say that you did.” He cracked his knuckles for emphasis, but the older man was none-too impressed.

Mr. Argentum offered them a sloppy smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Now, as I was saying…” he waved his hand dismissively at them. “…get off my property, and leave the Niff. He’s not done learning his lesson.”

Ignis raised an eyebrow at the older man. “I dare say you are toeing a thin line, sir.” He half turned to Noctis, and pointedly glanced between him and the car. Taking the hint, Noctis hitched Prompto up and shuffled toward the still-running vehicle.

Ignis and Gladiolus had expected Mr. Argentum to be angry, but honestly thought he wouldn’t be stupid enough to attack them.

They were wrong.

The older man lunged toward them, but instead of attacking either one, he shoved his way _through_ them, knocking both adviser and shield off balance. Mr. Argentum continued his trajectory, bowling directly into Noctis and Prompto, bringing all three of them down on the walkway.

The old woman, who had up to that point watched from the safety of the grass, quickly backed farther away from the tangled mass of limbs. She headed down towards the road, muttering about flagging down the police as they all picked up the distant wail of sirens.

The beefy older man managed to knee Noctis in the back and snag Prompto by the collar, dragging him up and in front of him as Gladiolus and Ignis rushed to Noctis’ side.

He backed up, taking the blonde back towards the house. Prompto’s eyes were wide and terrified, but he didn’t cry for help; no, he knew his dad was dangerous, and he didn’t want his friends to be hurt.

Noctis labored to his feet, already lurching after them, his retinue on his heels. “Let him go! You’ve already lost, the police are on their way. You’re going to jail.”

Mr. Argentum sneered at them as he finally backed across the threshold of his house. “Well, I guess I should make it worth it.” He cast them a wicked grin and pointedly rammed Prompto face-first into the wall before turning away, dragging the dazed blonde deeper into the house. He left the door open behind them; a shameless taunt.

Or, more likely, an invitation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for the wait. My road to hell is paved with writing intentions. Know that I appreciate and love you all! Or at least, most of you! I mean, statistically speaking, at least a few of you are questionable. i kid i kid. The Big Fight to take place next chapter, and then an epilogue. I know better than to promise when, now. I'm sorry I'm not a better poster.


	8. ok, so it's almost then end. for real this time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as per usual, sorry for the delay. Overtime+depression+family emergency=no time/energy for writing. also, writer's block before that. and maybe a little laziness. But mostly the overtime.

**_Paul never thought of himself as a bad man. He’d simply wanted peace in his house once more; for his wife to stop looking so forlorn at her inability to give him children. So, in the end, he’d agreed to adopt._ **

**_Maria talked him into bringing home the little Niff child against his own better judgement. She’d thought the boy seemed lonely, and unlikely to be chosen by another family--especially considering the strange tattoo on his wrist._ **

**_If only he’d realized what the boy was before they brought him home. It was unfortunate that they'd spent years trying to love it before he figured out they harboring a monster; long after it had already taken up residence in their lives._ **

**_He’d tried taming it; now he’d try ridding himself of it._ **

“You know,” he said, glaring down at Prompto as the boy struggled beneath him, “this is your own doing, you little shit.”

Prompto again tried to kick him off, eyes frantic. “Dad, please  _ please _ just let me go! Please…I—“ the blonde flopped his head against the floor, tears streaming from his eyes. “I’ll just pack a bag and you’ll never have to see me again.  _ Please. _ ”

Paul sighed loudly as he finally caught both Prompto’s arms and began to wind a cord tightly around them. “Why did you go back there, huh? I told you I  would take care of transferring you out of that fucking school, since you can’t  _ listen. _ But no,” here he tightened the cord, tying it off, ignoring the whimper the boy produced. “You just  _ had _ to disobey me.”

Prompto cast him a defeated look as his body finally gave up the struggle. “Dad, no—I just, I don’t remember…? You hurt me pretty bad—“

Paul sneered at the accusation, quickly backhanding the boy—effectively silencing him. “Don’t you  _ dare _ ,” he raged, smacking Prompto again, snatching at his bound arms and pulling him upright. “I went up to your room before me and your mother left. I told you we were taking care of some business, and that when we came back you were to be here, waiting.”

Prompto just looked up at him with a mixture of horror and confusion upon his face, and Paul turned away in disgust. He kicked some of the books and other debris from his path—the beating he’d just given the boy had gotten a little out of hand—and opened the hall closet door. “You’ll stay in here till we’re ready to leave, got it?”

Prompto just shook his head, backing away incrementally. “Dad—“

“Don’t argue with me, boy. You’ve proven you can’t be trusted. Your mother found your little stash—how’d you get that much money, anyway? Stealing?” He sneered, “ _ Whoring _ ? I wonder how your boyfriend would like that. Or maybe he’s the one—“

Something in Prompto’s eyes went dark. He lumbered forward, managing to look menacing despite his bound arms and split lip, and Paul fell back a step. Prompto pressed his advantage. “You are  _ obsessed _ with the thought of me and Noct fucking, you giant weirdo! We’re not, not that it’s any business of yours if we were! What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

Paul sneered, remembering himself. He strode forward to meet the boy, shaking a finger at him. “You’d better get back in your fucking place, boy! You remember what happened last time you tried to be tough?”

A brief flutter of fear crossed his features before he shook his head, building his resolve. “If you hate me so much, why don’t you just let me leave?!” Prompto spat, angry tears streaming from his eyes.

Paul snatched the boy up till they were practically nose to nose. “Oh, I’m going to let you go, alright, we’re just taking a little ride, first.”

“What the fuck does that mean?!” Just as Prompto sputtered his protest, a sharp knock sounded at the door. Paul moved quickly, whirling Prompto around and clamping one hand over his mouth as he hoisted him up with the other.

“Maria,” he growled as he manhandled the struggling boy to the stairs. “Go see who’s at the door.”

* * *

**_Paul was not a handsome man, but that never mattered to Maria. She was far more interested in his strength; in his stern demeanor that told everyone in a mile radius not to fuck with him or his._ **

**_All she wanted was a real family. And, when they could not make one on their own, they brought the little Niff home. He’d looked so lonely in the orphanage, so broken—she saw a little of herself in him._ **

**_But he didn’t fix their problems. He didn’t fix Paul, and over the years her husband moved from “aggressively neglectful” to downright abusive towards the boy, which scared her. She didn’t want to become the target for his ire, so she stayed out of it…maybe sometimes even encouraged his anger toward their son._ **

**_It was just easier that way._ **

When Paul brought a dazed Prompto back into the house, she knew everything was done for. There was no coming back from this. Only a lunatic would outright attack the prince, and then continue to taunt him.

She needed to get out of there.

When they’d come home earlier, she’d been expecting to find the boy curled up in his room, still licking his wounds. When they’d found an empty house instead, Paul had become enraged. She’d been afraid he would hit  _ her _ , he was so angry, but he’d simply gone to the kitchen and downed most of a six pack of beer.

She drank a bit herself, then wandered back up to the boy’s room, picking up a few things strewn on the floor. That’s when she came across a small box…a small box that contained two thousand crown. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t much money—but it wasn’t as if they gave the boy an allowance, which means he was likely lying about the bills and other house expenses that came through; which is what her husband quickly deduced when he came in behind her. Well, it was one of his suggestions of how Prompto had come across the cash at any rate.

He raged for a moment, sweeping the books and knickknacks off of the boy’s desk. He suddenly stopped his tirade, jerking the curtain to the side. Outside, the prince’s car pulled into the driveway and he could just spy Prompto through the rear window. An odd light shone in Paul’s eyes; something dangerous. “I’m gonna set him straight, Maria.” He grinned at her savagely, baring his teeth and giving a slight shake of his head.  “Once and for all.”

* * *

**_Gladiolus admittedly did not like Prompto when he first met the squirrely blonde. He was a distraction for Noctis, he talked too much, and was just_** ** _always_** **around** ** _. But over the years, he found that a distraction was something that the prince desperately needed, and that sometimes it was good to fill silences. Slowly, having Prompto around became a treat instead of a chore._**

**_And now that he’d found that someone had been hurting that little ray of sunshine…?_ **

**_Yeah, now he was pissed._ **

When Paul Argentum pulled his dazed son back into the house, Gladiolus saw red. Noctis was two steps ahead of him, but the big warrior grabbed the boy by the scruff of his jacket and yanked him back, shoving him into Ignis. 

He knew he wouldn’t be able to stop the other two from following him in, but at that point he didn’t care. The only thing he wanted to do was get his hands on the man who had caused so much hurt. 

He slowed as he crossed the threshold into the house, but not by much. He strode past the door to the kitchen, noting Mrs. Argentum retreating farther back. There was no need to deal with her; she was obviously a coward who would not interfere. He rounded the corner into the living room, keeping a wide berth as he did. 

He came to a stop, assessing the situation. Behind him Noctis and Ignis were entering the room, the adviser having to physically restrain the prince from lunging forward.

Ahead of him, wild-eyed and ready to fight, was Paul Argentum. Half leaning against the wall, half sprawled on the floor behind his father was Prompto, obviously hanging on by a thread. 

Against his personal desires, Gladiolus put his hands up placatingly. “Give us Prompto, and we’ll go.”

“What do you want with him, huh? What use of he is to you?” Paul snarled, shifting from foot to foot. “Tell me what he did to gain the fucking  _ prince’s _ favor?”

“He’s my friend!” Noctis shouted, lunging forward only to be pulled back by Ignis again. 

“He’s a monster!” The man replied, spittle flying from his mouth. 

And that’s when Gladiolus lost control.

* * *

**_The world is full of cruel realities that most would like to sweep aside; we like to pretend that bad things don’t happen to good people, even though we experience it ourselves in our everyday lives. We all know someone who got the short end of the proverbial stick—someone that life just seemed to want to shit all over. Sometimes that person is someone we love. Sometimes, it’s us._ **

**_There’s no rhyme or reason to the universe; it simply is._ **

It was fair to say that for a little while, there, Prompto wasn’t at all sure of what was happening. There were bits and pieces—flashes of being at school, of Noctis, of his father’s rage-filled face. But whole chunks of the day were missing. And he  _ hurt _ .

But, with the pain came the  _ now _ , and that clarity made him realize something.

He was so very stupid.

Stupid  _ stupid _ Prompto.

He should have left a long time ago, and now it might be too late.

His father rounded the coffee table, dropping him in the space between the television stand and the corner with the dusty potted plant. Practically snarling to himself, Paul took up an iron poker from the fireplace, whipping it up to wield like a baseball bat.

Prompto tried to call out, to  _ warn _ —but all that issued from his throat was a strangled moan. Gladiolus was the first to barge in, his face seven shades of danger as he charged towards where Prompto’s father stood at the ready. They collided in a tangle of fury and cureses, jostling the boy on the floor as they shoved and beat each other.

Prompto drifted for a moment, lulled by the grunts and snarls sounding out rhythmically only a few feet away. But soon there was Ignis, looking more pinched than usual. “Hurry, now, that’s it.” He gripped Prompto’s hand—gentle, but firm—and hoisted him up. He was saying something about safety, when his eyes widened and a wounded snarl escaped his lips. Luckily for the listing blonde, Ignis had the presence of mind to grip him tightly by the upper arms and guide him into his father’s chair before leaping over him.

Prompto’s eyes tracked the adviser’s progress, widening significantly when he spied what had Iggy in a tizzy.

Gladiolus was laying stunned on the floor, and Noctis?

Noctis was bleeding.

He was on his knees, and he was  _ bleeding _ , and Prompto’s father stood over him, arms drawn back to bring down the iron poker he’d at some point found again, and…and...

N o c t

The primal scream that ripped its way through Prompto’s throat was enough to startle his father mid-swing, and the weapon flew over Noctis’ head, lodging in the wall. 

Everything moved in slow motion as Prompto forced himself up on shaking limbs. A few feet away, Gladiolus was struggling to his feet, one hand to the back of his head. Ignis was closest to Prompto’s father, but he didn’t know—

— _ he didn’t know— _

—how  _ dangerous _ , how  _ cruel _ his father could be, and Ignis was a good man; he’d hold back.

Prompto shook off his dizziness and reached out, snagging the neck of a broken beer bottle. He sprung forward, shoving the adviser away as he lunged at his father, screaming unintelligibly.

“Prompto, no!” Ignis called just as Gladiolus pushed himself up and rushed back into the fight.

_ It all happened so fast. _

One second Prompto was brandishing his bit of glass at the man who’d spent the better part of his entire existence belittling him, hurting him—

—and the next, he was thrown off course and his arm flailed  _ just so _ and he was slicing Gladiolus’s face open.

The big warrior stumbled back, grunting in pain, one hand clapped over his eye. Everyone in the room stilled for a fraction of a second before flying into another fury. Prompto was tossed into Noctis while Ignis sent Paul careening backwards into his armchair. The older man's momentum flipped him out of the chair and he bowled over himself, coming to a rest in the hall. Noctis, one hand—the bleeding one, Prompto dully registered—tucked under the other arm as he again put himself between his best friend and danger.

Prompto sat on the floor, out of adrenaline and out of breath. The cut seemed to have unleashed something in Gladiolus, who was now squared off against Paul, trading two punches for every one of the older man’s as gore flowed freely down his angry face.

Things bled out of focus for Prompto, then, and a high pitched tone nearly drowned out all other sound. Another commotion he couldn't follow erupted around him, an he lied back on the floor. Rolling his head to the side, he concentrated on Gladiolus, who was being separated from everyone else by two police officers. The warrior held one hand to his wounded face as he snarled at the much smaller officers, waving his free hand in Prompto’s direction. The blonde coughed a few times, wincing as the world pulsed around him. As he did, the clean half of the warrior’s face took on an alarmed expression just as everything faded out once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kept trying to force an iggy perspective in here, but it wasn't working. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! We're gonna wrap it up in the next post or two, I promise. Like, I PROMISE promise. And I'm about half way through the next chapter of To Heal a Chocobo, so you should hopefully see that up in the next few weeks. But, no promises re: beginning notes. 
> 
> Always and forever, thanks to MsC for putting up with me.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is about half complete, now, and Chocobo is drawing to a close. I will then be working on the stories for the winners of my tumblr follower givaway thing. After that, who knows?!?!?!
> 
> Stay brutal my friends.


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